


Collision Course

by WildwoodMage



Series: Dead Reckoning (Nanowrimo 2020) [1]
Category: Sonic Underground, Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types, Sonic the Hedgehog: The Animated Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Claustrophobia, Cyborgs, Intrigue, Mind Control, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo 2020, Near Death Experiences, Politics, Rebellion, Rough draft to be revised at a later date, Tags May Change, Trans Character, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27541588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildwoodMage/pseuds/WildwoodMage
Summary: Robotropolis is two cities in one. The aristocracy live in the Citadel, a shining paradise ruled and protected by The Good Doctor. All others are not so lucky, and they fight to survive in the Underworld, knowing that the Imperial armies have no interest in protecting them. A treasure deep beneath the heart of the city draws a politician, a thief, and an enemy of the state into bitter competition. Who wins, who loses, and what is more important than power and pride?
Relationships: Sally Acorn/Sonic the Hedgehog, Shadow the Hedgehog/Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonia the Hedgehog & Manic the Hedgehog, Sonia the Hedgehog/Rouge the Bat
Series: Dead Reckoning (Nanowrimo 2020) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013133
Comments: 42
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 of Dead Reckoning, a beloved pet project that I'm bringing into written form this NaNoWriMo. This is a rough draft. Feedback is welcome, and in fact I'd love if people took enough of an interest in this project to follow it through a revision or two. For now, however, it's going to be kind of a mess. A beautiful mess, hopefully.
> 
> Dead Reckoning is primarily based on Sonic Underground, but takes elements from all my favorite Sonic media. Sonia and Manic will be the main characters, but I'm shifting the POV around quite a bit for the first draft. All characters are humanized and aged up (Sonia and Manic start out in their mid-twenties, for reference). There will be romance, although I want to place more emphasis on found family relationships.
> 
> Added or changed surnames might be a bit confusing. I'll list those along with relevant pronouns in the notes at the end. Unimportant characters will have deliberately funny names and no I will not edit them into something respectable.

When Sonia chose to fix her makeup in the middle of a meeting, it sent a clear message. The Empire relied on her to appear as flawless as the regime’s foundation. Any imperfection, no matter how insignificant, invited the vultures to circle overhead, hoping that today would be the day that she stumbled, fell, and did not rise. But Sonia was in high demand, and when her schedule was fully booked, there were times that she had no choice but to dust rouge on her cheeks and examine the wings of her eyeliner for perfect symmetry in a handheld mirror, while Lord Frackington III droned about the wealth his mining operation—if properly funded—was sure to deliver, glory to the Empire. Today, her schedule was not actually fully booked. She was fixing her makeup specifically to send a message. The message; ‘You are not important enough to see me at my best. Die mad about it.”

To his credit, Frackington III (which was not his name… or was it? His name was of no more consequence than the man himself) did not stumble over his words, and if Sonia was feeling generous she could even attribute the sweat on his brow to the stuffy heat of the room. Climate controls never seemed to function as well as they should on the lower levels of the city. If Sonia was feeling less generous and more realistic, she would guess that his nerves were set on edge by the presence of her associate. Project Shadow was not considered an Imperial asset due to his sunny disposition. At the best of times, they were sullen and silent, and when they were not silent, it was generally to growl and snap at whatever poor idiot had gotten within biting range. This was not the best of times, and Shadow made no attempt to hide their impatience at being made to play politics. The longer Frackington III continued to speak, the more Shadow fidgeted, fixing Sonia with increasingly pointed glares, clenching and relaxing their fists as if they couldn’t decide whether to direct the inevitable violent outburst at the sweating lord or their own ears. All this, despite the fact that Sonia had made it quite clear that storming into the catacombs, flinging bullets and magical spears in every direction, would be counterproductive to their mission. Their mission that had absolutely nothing to do with Lord Frackington III’s projected profits. But see, that was why Sonia was the best in the business. Her disdain was subtle, a constant hum that laced her every word like venom. If Frackington III noticed, it was only enough to fear for his safety, and he would never dare to challenge her on it. In this instance, he was not a complete imbecile. In any other case, Sonia did not care enough to pass judgment.

The knock at the door was unexpected, but when the person on the other side strode into the room, Sonia was glad that she had just now reapplied her lipstick. Lady Bijoux was not one that Sonia frequently engaged with professionally, despite how she longed to engage with her unprofessionally. The attraction was based on little more than skin-deep beauty, but that was sufficient, especially in the case of Lady Bijoux. Tall and proud, with wide curves and effortless confidence, Bijoux had a way of making everyone else in the room seem demure and dull. Gravity bent toward her, drawing foolish strangers in with the promise of returning their attention, if only they managed to impress her. Sonia wanted so badly to impress her.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Bijoux said, making no attempt to lie convincingly. She was interrupting, of course, and Sonia was glad for it. Bijoux’s smile was properly contrite, but her eyes gleamed with the thrill of knowing a secret. Her eyeshadow was the color of emeralds, luxurious and shining against her warm brown skin. The bold color was hardly outlandish compared to the popular fashions of the Citadel, but she had such an otherworldly beauty that Sonia could imagine that she woke up every day to find that her skin was already painted the color of precious jewels.

“Not at all,” Sonia said. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Lady Bijoux.”

Although Sonia was of a far higher social standing, she rose to her feet, taking Bijoux’s hand in her own. The Lady wore black gloves as soft as falling rain. There was no ring on her third finger. Sonia’s left hand remained clasped behind her back, although the diamond that adorned her was hardly a secret. Sonia bowed her head, pressing a kiss to Bijoux’s hand, so delicate that her lipstick would not smear.

“I can say the same to you, my dear Lady,” Bijoux said. Sonia did not know if she imagined the gentle squeeze to her hand. She sharply chastised her heart for fluttering like a schoolgirl’s and pulled out a chair for Bijoux to have a seat. As Sonia returned to her own perch, she felt the Lady’s eyes linger on her. She resisted the urge to reapply her lipstick.

“To what do we owe this delightful surprise?” Lord Frackington III said, likely under the quite reasonable assumption that if he did not remind the two that he and Shadow were still in the room, they would soon abandon their tenuous respect for how two (powerful, smoking hot, and not subtly horny) nobles should behave in polite society. Shadow, for their part, seemed to be far less cranky now that someone interesting had entered the room, and was regarding Bijoux with a healthy mix of suspicion and curiosity.

“You’ll forgive me for being nosy, but I have two reasons,” Bijoux said. Sonia had already forgiven her. “It’s rare that the Voice of the Empire graces this part of the city with her presence—and with the Ultimate Lifeform at her side! Now, you may be on some Code Word Classified mission from the Good Doctor, in which case you may of course shoo me away. But nothing ventured and so on. Tell me, my Lady, what delicious gossip—or top secret menace—brings you to the Catacombs?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Sonia said, with just enough of an edge to her voice that Bijoux would have to wonder whether or not she was truly joking. “I can neither confirm nor deny any hidden menace deep within the catacombs, but fortunately that’s not what brings me here. The Good Doctor has high hopes for Lord Frackington III’s new factory. I intend to feature it in a presentation at the Equinox Gala. The aristocracy ought to celebrate the innovation that so enriches their lives.”

Bijoux carefully concealed any sign of disappointment. Sonia wondered if she saw through the blatant lie. Of course, Bijoux would have no reason to disbelieve her. The nobility of Robotropolis worshipped at the altar of the Good Doctor, and Sonia Windermere was his prophet. The Face of the Empire, the dazzling smile and eloquent charm that spun a chaotic world into a masterful narrative. Her word was truth, and truth was what she spoke into existence. And yet, she could not shake the feeling that Lady Bijoux saw right through her, through the knotted lies wrapped around Sonia’s burning core. She cast the fear aside, and it never reached her eyes.

“Oh, how delightful!” Bijoux said. “I too have taken an interest in this project. Great minds do think alike. I suppose you’ll be receiving the grand tour?”

“But of course!” Lord Frackington III said. “I simply cannot wait for Lady Windermere to see what we have built so far. The Citadel will be even more magnificent by our efforts, and if I am truly fortunate, the Good Doctor will be pleased as well.”

Dr Robotnik would indeed be pleased, but not by any factory, and not by the efforts of Lord Frackington III. Indeed, Sonia was not even the most important agent sent on this task. That honor belonged to Shadow, who was doing a very good job of being surly but unassuming. Sonia’s bodyguard, one might assume, and they would not be entirely incorrect. But as Sonia dazzled their way into the factory, Shadow would be searching the catacombs for an infinitely more priceless treasure.

Until very recently, Sonia had thought the chaos emeralds a myth. Even when she learned that Robotnik sincerely believed in their existence—and unmatched power—she could hardly wrap her mind around it. But curiosity burned like an itch in the back of her mind. The world was a deeply strange place, and although she had her doubts about Robotnik’s political acumen, she did not question his brilliance. If he believed that the chaos emeralds were waiting to be found, perhaps even right beneath the Empire’s shining capital, Sonia desperately wanted to see them for herself. And if she managed to find it herself, before any of Robotnik’s less clever thugs could manage it…

But she was getting ahead of herself. She needed to keep Frackington III—and, it seemed, Bijoux—distracted long enough for Shadow to slip away and examine the more obscure passages deep beneath the city. The Ultimate Lifeform was another strange but compelling piece of evidence in favor of the emeralds’ existence. Shadow’s power was every bit as mysterious and intriguing as the emeralds. Were they drawn to them… or fueled by them? Either way, Shadow could, in theory, detect their presence more accurately than any of the Empire’s sensors, but it was all but impossible to get a bead on them in the twisting labyrinth down below. They needed time to work, time that Sonia was eager to provide, so long as Bijoux continued to hang off her arm and flatter her.

A buzz sounded from Bijoux’s earring. A panel appeared before her eye, bearing text far too small to be read by anyone but herself. She scanned the message quickly, then sighed. “No rest for the wicked, it seems,” she said. “I’m sorry, My Lady, but I simply must take my leave.”

Lord Frackington III adjusted his bowtie, and Sonia deserved a medal for not rolling her eyes. Fine. As Bijoux departed, Sonia refocused on the task ahead. There would be time to play when she held all the power of chaos in her hands.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Manic's line of work, catching the eye of a bigger and badder criminal tends to involve the little guy winding up dead in a ditch. It's hard to say whether what happens instead is any less dangerous.

Manic wanted to make a joke about not bruising his moneymaker, but he didn’t think that it would go over well. If anything, the thugs that had him by either arm might take it as an invitation. In any case, it was already too late. His eyeliner was over seventy-two hours old (roughly the same amount of time since he had last slept), and he had gone well beyond smoky eye and into hot mess. The brief, frantic chase—and the manhandling that came afterward—had left him sweaty, his clothes torn, and bruises blossoming up and down his arms. The handcuffs were starting to chafe as well. To be honest, it was nothing worse than he was used to. What had him quaking with ill-concealed fright was what the thugs were dragging him toward.

When Manic had first stolen Lady Bijoux’s diamond necklace, the only life-changing consequence he expected was the small fortune he would earn by selling it. Which he did, and couldn’t quite bring himself to regret. It was not the first time he had stolen from someone more dangerous and powerful than he was. More than one aristocrat had cursed up and down once they discovered one bauble or another missing, swiped from right under their noses. Generally, however, those nobles did not have the know-how or connections within the Thieves Guild to hunt him down. Manic was quite used to vanishing into the night, just another (dazzlingly gorgeous) face among the downtrodden nobodies living in the dark underbelly of Robotropolis. Then he learned that Lady Bijoux had put a price on his head. Then he was running out of corners to hide in. Then he was being ambushed in the gloaming hours of the morning, only mostly sober and completely out of ideas.

Manic was probably going to die. He was not remotely surprised that this day had arrived so soon, but that didn’t make the thought any easier to deal with. So he talked about literally anything else. He insisted that the thugs had the wrong guy. He offered to pay them double whatever Bijoux had promised. He offered to suck their dicks. He threw his dignity right in the garbage and begged, and begged and begged until a callused hand was clamped over his mouth. Well, maybe seduction could still work. Manic fluttered his eyelashes at the towering goon, his expression a perfect mask of helplessness and temptation. The guy didn’t even look at him. Manic groaned, going limp in their grasp and forcing them to practically carry him the rest of the way.

Manic’s speaking privileges were returned to him only when they brought him into a surprisingly-swanky safehouse. It looked like it had been a bar at once point, perhaps even a nice one. There were still a few choice bottles of booze up on a high shelf. Manic found himself shoved up against the bar, two pairs of strong hands pinning him in place.

“Welcome back, boys.” Rouge Bijoux looked like an angel, or a ghost. She glided through the Underworld of Mobotropolis, seemingly untouched by its filth. Even as she strode into the safehouse, a dark jacket draped around her shoulders, stiletto heels dangling from one hand, she looked as if she might vanish into stardust if one dared to get too close. It was no wonder Manic had mistaken her for a true-blooded aristocrat, beautiful and naive to the twisted paths he walked. Little did he know those paths all wrapped around her finger, depositing him desperate and doomed at her feet. Rouge smiled at him, knowing and gracious, and Manic felt very, very small. “Manic. You’re a tough kid to track down.”

Manic’s rakish grin betrayed not a shred of anxiety. He was used to smiling even as he felt like the world was crumbling around him. “I like to keep people on their toes,” he said. 

Rouge turned her attention to the goons that still clasped his arms with enough force to bruise. She slipped a data drive from her cleavage and held it out between two fingers. “Five hundred credits for one troublemaker, still in one piece. I can handle him from here.”

Manic didn’t bother to be offended by the implication that he was entirely nonthreatening, even one on one, deep in the Underworld where no one bothered or dared to investigate the sounds of violence. Most people took one look at Manic and assumed they could handle him; a scrawny kid, quick to smart off, quicker to run away. They were usually right. Rouge definitely was. The goons released him, and he nearly dropped as he was suddenly forced to support his own weight. The weaselly one snatched the drive out of Rouge’s hand. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said. As he left, he smacked Manic’s ass, gently enough that it straddled the line between lecherous and companionable.

Manic was left with no barrier between himself and Rouge Bijoux’s scrutiny. It wasn’t fair that she remained cool as can be, her expression devoid of anger or malice. Manic didn’t like the idea of being killed by someone who didn’t care whether he lived or died. No more than he liked the idea of being killed at all. But he didn’t run away, guessing correctly that Rouge had more than some extra cash hidden between her tits. Manic didn’t fancy feeling a bullet in his back any sooner than he needed to. When Rouge gestured to one of the few bar stools that were still structurally sound, Manic didn’t argue. He did, however, slip the lock on his handcuffs (a trick he’d mastered long before he’d had to worry about actually being kidnapped) rather than embarrass himself further by attempting to climb up onto a stool while his hands were bound. 

“Want a drink?” Rouge said.

“Sure,” Manic said, which was always going to be the answer to that question. Spending his last few minutes pleasantly buzzed didn’t sound too bad. Rouge slipped behind the bar and stood up on her tiptoes to retrieve an intricately carved glass bottle. The liquid inside resembled molten gold, pouring rich and smooth into a dusty glass. Manic’s cuffs, one dangling empty, rattled against the bar as he reached for his consolation prize. Rouge leaned toward him, her arms crossed and resting casually on the bar. Her nails, neat and unpolished, drummed against her own glass.

“It’s been a while,” she said. “Haven’t seen you since you were taking off with my favorite diamonds. That necklace was a family heirloom, you know.”

Manic’s expression twisted in time with the sinking of his stomach. Not for the first time, he retraced his steps since pawning the necklace, judging whether or not he could track it down and steal it back. The answer hadn’t changed; Manic could spend the rest of his natural-born years examining every stolen diamond in Robotropolis and be no more successful than if he spent an afternoon counting grains of sand on the beach. “Fuck, Rouge, I’m sorry. I can tell you who I sold it to, but it’s long gone by now.”

“Relax.” For the first time, Rouge’s eyes gleamed with something other than cold professionalism. For a moment, Manic couldn’t believe what he was seeing, although he knew well the allure of mischief. “I never said it was an heirloom from my family.”

Manic snorted out a laugh. “Alright, you got me there. But why are you getting five-finger discounts on your jewelry when you’ve already got a title and a place in the Citadel? Save some for the rest of us.”

Rouge’s smile widened, a flash of ivory teeth and glittering menace. “Title, sure. But some dipshit relative blew the family fortune ages ago. The Bijouxs haven’t had a place in the Citadel in generations.”

Manic was starting to get a feel for the big picture, if only he could believe what he was hearing. For the third time, Rouge Bijoux was reshaping her image in his mind’s eye. Beautiful Lady. Master Thief. Both at once, wrapped up in one another so that any who looked upon her were dazzled, and her full identity remained veiled in shifting shadow. “How—?”

“Careful, sweetheart,” Rouge said. “I can’t tell you all my secrets in one night.”

One night. Implying there would be more. Manic squashed the hope that threatened to bubble up in his chest. A swig of burning gold did the trick. The warmth that spilled down his throat grounded him quite sensibly in reality. “If you dragged me here to gloat, it’s definitely working,” he said. “Want me on my knees? I can grovel like the best of ‘em. Or the worst of ‘em? Anyway. What combination of praise and/or going down on you ends with my body not being tossed into the sewer from whence I came?”

“You’re not going in the sewer,” Rouge said. “No groveling needed. We can discuss you going down on me another time, but I try not to mix up business and pleasure.”

“Which one is happening now? Business or pleasure?”

“Business. And to be clear, that doesn’t involve killing you. That’s not my game. I was going to give you a scare, but that was a month ago, and I’ve got a better idea.”

Manic rocked from hope to dread and back again so quickly he thought he might be seasick. That was about how he had felt every waking moment this past month, from when he learned that Lady Bijoux was hunting him to the moment, just that night, that she succeeded. Even to Manic, whose expertise was in keeping his head down and staying two steps ahead of the competition, it had been a constant struggle, and with every passing night more and more of his hiding places were snuffed out. “Better tell me what that idea is, because right now the anticipation is killing me.”

When Rouge laughed, it didn’t sound forced. Why would it? She was a mystery, but she didn’t have to hide from him. So complete was her victory that her poker face had given way to effortless confidence. But although he was at her mercy, Manic did not feel like a piece of prey waiting to be devoured. “You know, I didn’t even notice the necklace was gone until after you’d left,” she said. “That’s impressive enough. But hiding right under my nose for a full month? You’re something special, sweetheart. I’ve chosen to think of this whole thing as a job application, and I like what I see.”

Play it cool. Manic failed to play it cool. His eyes lit up, and his voice was breathless. “You sound like you’re about to offer me a gig.”

“Now you’re getting it,” Rouge purred. 

Manic nearly vibrated out of his seat as the fear of death rushed out of him, leaving a vacuum ready to be filled by giddy anticipation. “Fuck yeah, sister, count me in! What did you have in mind?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadow has a fateful encounter, and does not respond in a heterosexual manner.

Shadow didn’t know why they had been created. They were going to be a hero, some told them, even as they used him as a weapon. Perhaps there was no difference between the two. What they did know was that no one else could hear the song of chaos. When Shadow was very young, it had hummed throughout every atom, every living creature, every human soul. Ever since awakening in this strange new world, however, it had been quiet, imperceptible unless Shadow strained their senses. What kind of world had they woken to? Even the colors seemed muted in the absence of the melody they once knew.

And then they met Sonia. The Voice of the Empire had strode into Shadow’s room, a cross between medical observation and a prison cell. With glittering eyes and a smile that did not fully conceal her hunger, she introduced Shadow to the future, promised them that they had a grand destiny as a guardian of the good people of Robotropolis. Shadow barely heard her speak, because her soul sang so loudly. There were no words, nor would Shadow ever know how to describe it, but they heard the cry of Sonia’s heart with perfect clarity. Sonia knew how the sun felt as it looked down upon the restless earth. She poured out light and heat in careful measurements, knowing that if she were to shine with all her might, no one could look upon her without being blinded.

Shadow had almost forgotten how quiet the rest of the world was in comparison, but Sonia was not with them now. They could still sense her presence, if they strained, or even imagine the sound of her voice as she pacified the lord whose name Shadow had never cared about with meaningless compliments. For their part, Shadow had slipped away long ago, prowling through damp passageways in search of a song unlike anything they’d experienced before. Something brushed against the edges of their awareness; a promise, a sweet siren song, but was it what they sought? Was it something they didn’t know they were looking for?

So caught up in the ethereal, Shadow didn’t notice the stranger’s voice until the source was just around the corner. Shadow froze, momentarily forgetting to breathe. The stranger spoke in a manner that was quick and hushed, but exuberant, as if it took all of his focus to keep his voice down. “Of course I’m not lost. Just a little turned around, is all. Not pointing fingers or anything, but someone really needs to update her map! Half the tunnels are blocked, and… Hey, hey! It’s okay, Nicole, I’m not mad at you. Just letting off a little steam. No need to worry, I can find this dusty old rock the old-fashioned way.”

If he’d noticed that he had company, he gave no sign of it. Shadow let themself breathe once more. They peered around the corner, their eyes adjusting from deep dark to the pale blue light emanating from the stranger’s prosthetic leg. His hip was cocked to the side, his full weight supported by a lean thigh, a metal shin, a foot in the shape of a curved spring. His other, organic foot tapped incessantly, as if mere seconds of standing still were more than he could bear. He was taller than Shadow, though not by much, and every inch of him that wasn’t metal was wiry muscle. He spoke into a headset, but Shadow could no longer hear his voice over the energy that radiated from him. Wind swept over open plains with enough force to knock the unprepared flat on their backs, or lift them off their feet. To those who dared to reach to the sky, lightning seared the ground, there and gone before the eye had a chance to blink. Thunder echoed like a song Shadow couldn’t get out of their head.

Shadow realized, too late, that the stranger had stopped speaking. He turned his head to gaze at Shadow over his shoulder, at once wary and intrigued. A bandanna was tied around his face, and his eyes gleamed like emeralds. Shadow didn’t see him smile, but they saw his eyes turn up at the corners, mirthful but not necessarily friendly. “Howdy,” he said. “This isn’t the right part of town for tourists. Took a wrong turn at the slums, huh?”

Only then did Shadow realize that the stranger had a name; worse, it was one that they knew. This was the first they’d seen those eyes in person, brighter than they had been in the blurry footage captured of the Empire’s most infamous enemy. Sonic Charley’s gaze was electric, and Shadow could not tell whether it was nerves or admiration that made their heart leap into their throat.

“Relax,” he said. “Happens to the best of us. Tell you what, turn around and run on back to the Empire, and we don’t have to have a problem.”

His voice had lowered, now liquid and smug in a way that made Shadow’s teeth grind together. They’d read the files, at Sonia’s insistence. They knew that Sonic could run circles around the Good Doctor’s most masterful creations. But he’d never met Shadow. They squared their shoulders, clenched their hands into fists. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Is that right? Oh, I get it. You want an autograph first.” Sonic turned, planting his hands on his hips. His foot was no longer tapping, but Shadow couldn’t shake the feeling that in the absence of motion, his energy was only building, and building, and soon it would be too much for his body to contain. “Sorry, small dark and handsome, I didn’t bring a pen. Real unprofessional of me, I know. Won’t happen again. How about a kiss instead? I gotta warn you, though, you’ll for sure fall in love with me. It’s not my fault, I just have that effect on people.”

Sonic chattered far too quickly for Shadow to process (like lightning, there and gone again in an instant). What they did care about was his tone, the way his voice dripped with certainty and self-satisfaction, so potent that he might as well have dropped to his knees and begged for someone to kick his teeth in. Shadow would be thrilled to oblige. “Enough,” they snapped, one hand darting to the holster of their gun. No. Sonic was too quick to be brought down by a bullet. Shadow sent sparks of chaos crackling through their fingers instead. The shining green reflected in Sonic’s eyes. “You’re a threat to the peace of Robotropolis, and I won’t let you walk free.”

Sonic sighed dramatically, no more menaced than if he had happened upon a long line at a favorite coffee shop. “That’s what they all say,” he said. “Fine, but do me a favor and make this interesting.”

Before Shadow could respond, a flash of light had them hiding their face. They realized almost too late that the source of the flash was an electric blue blade that arced toward them like lightning as Sonic lunged. Shadow skidded to the side just in time to avoid the hilt of an energy sword as it smashed into the wall at head-height. The blow would have been non-lethal… probably, although the force with which the hilt slammed into the cement wall called that observation into question. For a split second, Sonic was taken aback (his file said he was fast, he wasn’t used to his enemies being able to see him coming). Shadow couldn’t see the grin that tugged at his lips, nor did they have a chance to catch their breath before he leaped into a high kick. The same electric blue flashed along the curve of his metal foot, promising a swift end to the fight if Shadow failed to dodge another blow. 

They came one after the other, a dizzying, relentless offense; a lesser lifeform would be rapidly overwhelmed. For the first time in a very long time, Shadow felt their enhanced muscles burn with the strain of keeping up the pace. If the fight continued in this manner, Sonic might even be able to wear them out. But no matter how magnificent his movement, Shadow had no intention of allowing him an easy victory. They recovered from stumbling surprise, falling back instead into a practiced defense. They regained their footing, gathered their focus, and when Sonic’s sword next arced toward them, it collided with a spear of blinding light.

Shadow was prepared for the shockwave that rushed outward from the collision, but it sent Sonic stumbling back. He would only be vulnerable for a fraction of a second, which Shadow used to hurl the spear at his chest. It was Sonic’s turn to twist out of the way, and the chaotic weapon left a smear of ash on the wall behind him.

“Damn,” Sonic said, almost admiring, under his breath. Shadow quickly squashed a smug grin. Even the famed Freedom Fighter, who shone like a beacon to Shadow’s ethereal senses, had never seen the kind of power they wielded. To his credit, fear never crossed Sonic’s face, and he didn’t hesitate to leap back into the fray.

Sonic was a whirlwind, blades flashing with such agility and ferocity that Shadow barely had the time to breathe, much less hurl another spear. They focused instead on maintaining a strong defense, their hands clasped around a staff of chaos energy that flashed but did not falter every time it blocked a blow from Sonic’s sword. The tables had turned, and now Shadow waited for Sonic to tire, reveling in the frustration that crept into his expression, the knowledge that their muscles stayed strong far longer than those of any mortal human.

But oh, Sonic was not just any human. He proved that each time he moved more quickly than Shadow’s eye could follow, each time he came a breath away from slipping through their defenses. Just keeping up with his incredible assault demanded Shadow’s intense focus. It was going to be a pleasure to bring him to his knees.

For a brief, blessed moment, Sonic retreated, watching warily from a distance that he didn’t dare consider safe. “I did ask you to make this interesting,” he said. “That’s on me. So are you a robot or what?”

This time, Shadow could not stop the grin that tugged at their lips. They shifted their spear to either hand, casually stretching out each wrist in turn. “Or what,” they said.

Sonic snorted, amusement and frustration mixing in equal measure. Without another word, he was little more than a gleaming blur, neither winded nor slowed and eager for round two. It felt cruel to deny him, but then again, he shouldn’t have provided Shadow with an opening.

Shadow ducked under Sonic’s overhead strike, fully intending to send their spear into the one place where Sonic had so foolishly left himself vulnerable, except that Sonic did not stop moving. His momentum carried him into a roll, from which he kicked off the ground, slamming his knee just under Shadow’s chin.

Shadow’s spear fizzled and vanished, but the dancing lights in their vision did not. They shook their head, gathering their wits to find themself slumped against the wall, their arms stretched out above their head. A sharp click broke through the haze of their thoughts, just as Sonic finished locking their own handcuffs around their wrists. Shadow’s body jerked, but metal rattled against metal, rendering them quite unable to punch the smug gleam out of Sonic’s eyes.

“Thanks for the fireworks,” he said, strapping the hilt of his sword, the blade deactivated, to his thigh. “I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll see you in hell!” Shadow snapped, but Sonic merely laughed as if enjoying a private joke, and then he vanished in a flash into the Catacombs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonic vs Shadow, round 2

The Ultimate Lifeform’s shout echoed through the halls in Sonic’s wake, but he barely heard it over the voice in his ear. Sally was chastising him with the tone of voice she used when she was not angry at him so much as she was frustrated about an unforeseen variable interfering with her master plan. Usually, that unforeseen variable was Sonic going off course, but not today. The question tumbling through the heads of every Freedom Fighter in Knothole was this; what was Shadow doing in the Catacombs?

“This is more than a PR stunt,” Sally said. “They’ve been talking non-stop about the Ultimate Lifeform as the Empire’s latest and greatest unstoppable weapon. It would be foolish to assume that their presence here is a coincidence.”

“So are they just here to tango with me, or are we on the same treasure hunt?” Sonic said.

“I’m not sure just yet. Best to play it safe for now. I don’t want you engaging them without backup, not this deep in Robotropolis.”

“Take it easy, princess. I already handled it. They’re not going anywhere fast, and hey, now we’ve got some intel on their spooooky magic powers!”

“Those spooky magic powers that we still don’t understand and can’t predict or counter, which is why you should have run as soon as you noticed them following you!”

“And have to find a chaos emerald and dodge magic missiles at the same time? Hard pass. It doesn’t matter, because I told you, Robotnik’s weirdly organic attack warlock isn’t going anywhere.”

“For now. Fine, just… Hurry up and find the emerald before they call for backup. We’ll be there to cover your exit.”

“As you command, Your Highness.” Sonic couldn’t hear Sally’s eye roll, but he knew it was happening, even as she huffed out a laugh.

“Stay on your toes. Over and out.”

The com went silent, and Sonic skidded to a halt at the end of a passageway. The place was a maze, miles and miles of tunnels knotted around each other until even Sonic would struggle to map it out himself. That was where Nicole came in, helpfully tracking his location and processing the data into a course that would bring him right to the hidden emerald. At least, that was what she would have been doing, except that every other mile, the signal had cut out, leaving Nicole’s data with glaring gaps. A frowning emoji popped up as Sonic scrolled through the map, projected from his wrist band. “Don’t give me that, Nicole,” he said. “It’s not your fault. If it was easy to map this place, Robotnik would’ve done it ages ago, and the last thing we need is for him to find any weirdly magical rocks.”

“That’s true, but it still slows our progress,” Nicole said. Her voice could not express emotion the same way a human’s could, but Sonic heard her frustration loud and clear. “Sally and I agree that you will be in more danger the longer you remain in Robotropolis.”

“Aw Nicole, you know that’s half the fun!” Nicole couldn’t laugh, but she pasted a nervous smiley face on the screen. Sonic grinned right back and said, “I’ve got plenty of gas in the tank. Want me to take another few laps and see if the signal improves?”

“I have a better idea. I’ve overlaid the mapping software with our admittedly outdated records. Everything is installed on your local system. Even when you next lose signal, the software will continue to run, and you will have a better idea of where you’ve already searched. It’s not a perfect solution, but it should get the job done.”

“See, this is why you’re my main computer. Mind giving Sally an update? With any luck, the next time you hear from me, I’ll have the emerald and be heading full-speed towards Knothole.”

“I’ve informed Sally. Her fingers are and will remained crossed until we receive your next message.”

“I won’t let you down. Over and out.” 

Sonic brought up his old map once more. Nicole had helpfully marked locations that he had already found to be inaccurate; a cave-in here, a detour there. On another layer were the passages that had successfully broadcasted, leaving holes where the signal cut out. Sonic braced his hands against the wall, stretching out one leg, then the other. This was going to be a workout, even for him.

Elsewhere, the Ultimate Lifeform’s bindings broke in a shower of sparks. Sonic was long gone, but they still heard the distant rumble of thunder.

One winding hallway after another, the map took shape. If Sonic had known how extensive these tunnels were, he would have suggested this ages ago. Even if they didn’t find the chaos emerald, a network of secret passages beneath every corner of Robotropolis would be an incredible boon to the Resistance. And so he raced meticulously around every corner he happened across, his eyes scanning for glittering green among the dust and damp.

The green he found was not an emerald, but a searing light that was becoming all too familiar. Sonic just barely skidded under a chaos spear that punched a hole through the wall behind him. It would seem that someone was cranky about being left tied up.

Sonic whirled around, his knees bent, light on his feet, his hands balled into fists. Shadow’s expression was murderous. Their snarl bared unnaturally sharp canines, and emerald flames flickered around their hands. Excitement was an entirely inappropriate response, especially since Sally had made it quite clear that picking a fight with the Empire’s greatest weapon, whose capabilities they did not yet understand, was a foolish and unnecessary risk. Then again, Sonic had lost signal in his headset miles ago. What Sally didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Besides, it felt cruel to turn tail and run when Shadow was so plainly begging for another beatdown.

“Back for more, huh?” Sonic said. “I get it, you had one taste and now you can’t get enough.”

“I’ll be satisfied when I teach you some manners,” Shadow said, as another spear formed in their hands.

Sonic decided to play it safe—more or less—this time around. As his right hand retrieved his sword, he extended his left in front of him. Four panels shot out from his wristband to hover in midair, a circular field of energy shimmering between them. Sonic thrust the shield toward Shadow just in time to deflect the hurled spear. The contrasting energy flashed dramatically in the split second before the spear dissipated, and Sonic used that moment to bring his sword down in a high arc. He expected to take Shadow by surprise. He didn’t expect the Ultimate Lifeform to twist gracefully to the side and turn their momentum into a spinning kick, colliding squarely with the back of Sonic’s skull.

Sonic could feel a few brain cells evaporate from the direct impact, but he was far more concerned with the sudden, dizzying pain. First in the back of his head, then the front as he bloodied his nose on the cement. In an instant he braced his elbows against the ground, shaking his head to clear it. The pain did not fade, but neither did it distract him from the knowledge that if he didn’t get back on his feet, he was done for. Sonic’s heart pounded from adrenaline, nerves, and giddy delight. He had meant it when he asked Shadow to give him an interesting fight, and they weren’t about to let him down.

A strong hand seized the back of Sonic’s jacket, hauling him off the ground like he weighed nothing. Sonic flailed for just a moment before getting his feet back under him, then driving his elbow blindly but accurately into Shadow’s gut. They didn’t let go, and Sonic heard fabric tear as he twisted out of their grasp. He could mourn one of his favorite garments later. For now, there was lightning in his veins as he whipped around to remind Shadow why he couldn’t be manhandled without consequences.

Blood soaked through the fabric of Sonic’s bandanna. He pulled it down around his neck. His sword remained angled toward Shadow in a potent warning not to get too close. His free hand attempted to swipe blood away from his nose, but only managed to smear it across his lips. His smile, unrestrained and just a bit unhinged, made even Shadow freeze, just for a moment. Good. Sonic spat blood onto the ground beside his feet, and when he spoke, his voice was a low rasp. “Bet you can’t do that twice.”

Shadow’s gaze hardened with fury and resolve, and Sonic’s grin only grew wider.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonic and Shadow's flirting brings them into the factory, where Sonic finds himself outnumbered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains more violence than earlier ones. A robot gets stabbed, and someone gets tased, but there continues to be no serious (or unrepairable) injury.

Sonia had hoped, foolishly, that her promotion would bring some variety into her life. Her specialty was politics, and she was truly the best of the best. But pretending to care about her so-called peers could be extraordinarily dull. It was not her fault if she hoped, naively, that increased authority in military matters would allow her to spend less time schmoozing and more time crushing her enemies beneath her heel. And yet she had run out of the questions she had pre-prepared for Lord Frackington III regarded the new factory, his overall business, and plans for the future, glory to the Empire. She was left improvising, all while smiling blandly and pretending to listen to Frackington III’s sweaty, rambling responses. But Shadow had yet to return, and she knew that patience was key. The Catacombs were a labyrinth nearly the size of Robotropolis itself, and largely unmapped. More importantly, this may be their only chance to conduct a search without outside interference. If the many, many criminals within the city—or worse, the Resistance—learned what was hidden in the dark and deep, chances of a successful mission plummeted. Sonia disliked pretending Lord Frackington III was a respected peer. She disliked failure far more.

Still, she checked her com every few minutes, growing more and more agitated as Shadow’s radio silence continued. In the very near future, she would come to regret wishing for a sign of their progress, because that sign came in the form of a blurred figure racing across the catwalk overhead. 

At first, Sonia thought she was seeing things—until Public Enemy Number One Sonic Charley paused, glanced over his shoulder, than leaped off the catwalk just in time for a chaos spear to blast it off its bracings. Frackington III shrieked at the sudden sound of tearing metal, at which point Sonic appeared to notice for the first time that he was no longer in the unoccupied labyrinth of the catacombs. Sonia’s robotic bodyguard leaped in between her and the infamous criminal, but Sonic clearly had bigger fish to fry. Namely, the furious Ultimate Lifeform wreathed in flame and determined to tear him limb from limb. Sonia’s polished face twisted into a grimace as she foresaw exactly where this was going, with all the momentum of a train having just leaped the tracks. She cursed the tragic demise of plan A, but there was still an opportunity to be salvaged. Unlike Frackington III’s factory, but of course all law-abiding citizens knew that sacrifices must sometimes be made in the name of national security. 

“Lock down the exits,” Sonia said, shouting over Frackington III’s protests. “Clear any personnel from this floor.” As factory security scurried to carry out her commands, Sonia turned to her associate. Leon was a titan of a bot, towering even with her head bent toward the ground. She had wide shoulders and bulky arms, hands tipped with brutal, crushing claws. Only the best could accompany the Voice of the Empire. Only the best could stand a chance against Sonic. “Aid Shadow, and capture Charley at any cost.”

Shadow might not need the aid. Already they were doing a masterful job of forcing Sonic to keep on his toes, never resting for more than a moment before a chaos spear sent him fleeing once more. Frackington III was making mournful sounds as ludicrously expensive machinery took the brunt of Shadow’s fury instead, but Sonia was on the record as not giving a single solitary shit about that. All she had to do was figure out how to pin Sonic down—ideally without damaging him too badly. The Doctor wanted him more or less in one piece.

A plan leaped, haphazard, to mind. Sonia would have preferred a moment of quiet, to lay the groundwork for a meticulous trap, but she knew better than anyone that she couldn’t always get what she wanted. Because she was a god damn professional, she could improvise when the situation called for it. It helped to imagine the grand celebration in her honor, the hero who brought Sonic Charley to justice. But she was getting ahead of herself. 

Phase one. Sonia kicked off her heels and sprinted across the factory floor. Overhead, Sonic was making the most of his agility and the obstacle course provided by the industrial machines in order to keep out of reach of Leon’s crushing claws. This, however, left him vulnerable to Shadow’s ranged attacks. If Sonia could slow him down, just for a moment, a solid hit by Shadow might render the next phases of her plan unnecessary. She scaled the metal stairs to the control panel two at a time. A terrified underpaid engineer huddled in the control room, watching the light show from behind bulletproof glass. He nearly leaped out of his skin as Sonia pounded on the door. He could be forgiven for not immediately recognizing her, politician’s mask discarded in favor of wild-eyed resolve. He could not be forgiven for hesitating once he did recognize her. Sonia knocked again with enough force to bruise her fist through her gloves. It was only as she reached for her pistol that he scrambled to let her in.

“What the hell is— Ma’am?” 

Sonia examined the controls, locked up behind sturdy metal panels. She grabbed the engineer by the collar and hauled him toward her. “Kill the lights,” she said. Sonic couldn’t see in the dark. Shadow and Leon could. He wouldn’t be able to see without making himself a literal glowing target.

“I’m just doing a safety check,” the engineer stammered. “I don’t have the keys to—”

He had a toolbox resting open on a folding chair. Sonia rummaged through it until she found a handheld crowbar. The metal screeched in protest, but otherwise gave little resistance as Sonia pried the security panels out of place. Without another word, she gestured with an open hand to the newly exposed switches. The engineer did not try to argue with her again.

As the factory plunged into darkness, the lights in Sonic’s prosthetic left a glowing blue afterimage, marking clear lines in the dark where he stumbled mid-sprint and was sent skidding across the ground. His momentum slammed him into a towering metal tank that dented under the impact, and for a while the faint glow was still. Shadow appeared as if by dark magic, a chaos spear raised overhead for the finishing blow.

Ultimate Lifeform indeed. Sonia waited, breathless, realizing for the first time that she might indeed have a hand in bringing down the Empire’s most hated enemy. She did not have a chance to process the sudden anxiety that turned her veins to ice. Sonic thrust his hand toward the sky, and his shield expanded to cast him in a stark silhouette against blazing blue. Spear and shield clashed with a sound like thunder, green and blue colliding into blinding white. Sonic braced his feet beneath him and leaped upward with enough force to knock Shadow on their back, and then he was racing off as if he had never slowed.

Outnumbered, running out of places to seek cover, Sonic would look for an exit. The doors were sealed by now, but this place wasn’t airtight. Lord Frackington III had not pointed the utility shaft out to Sonia, but she had taken note of it, as she took note of every detail she came across. It was the perfect escape route for a criminal looking for a quick retreat. A shame she was going to reach it first.

Sonic had lost count of how many times he had run circles around the factory floor. Every door with a helpful EXIT sign shining like a beacon over head was sealed tight, and he didn’t like his odds of carving through before Shadow (or the hulking soldier he had seen prowling in the dark) caught up to him. A thought leaped to mind, and he skidded to a halt right in front of one of the blocked doors. The chaos spear came like clockwork, sailing harmlessly over Sonic’s head as he dropped to the ground. The projectile struck the metal barricade with enough force that Sonic felt his teeth rattle, leaving it damaged but disappointingly intact. Sonic wondered if Shadow was thickheaded enough to keep lobbing spears at the same spot until it did the trick. That might actually be worth a shot, but Sonic filed that away as plan B. He kept moving.

This wasn’t a prison. There had to be another way out. Picking out details in the near-pitch dark and at hundreds of miles per hour was a nightmare, but that didn’t stop Sonic from trying. It was as he scanned the shifting shadows that he caught a glimpse of movement. The rumbling growl was almost too quiet to hear. Almost. Sonic abruptly changed course, just in time to avoid Leon’s pounce.

The bot dropped from above, slamming into the ground with enough force to break bone and bend metal. Braced on all fours, it appeared more bestial than human, its hands—paws?—each large enough to crush Sonic’s head. Its eyes didn’t glow, as it adjusted to operating under cover of darkness, but at a certain angle, catching the light of Sonic’s tech, they reflected back blue as a crystal lake. Sonic would have been more comfortable if it regarded him with malice or hatred, but in Leon’s eyes was only the determination of carrying out an objective with brutal efficiency. It didn’t give him a chance to run away.

Leon was quicker than its hulking size seemed to allow. It lashed out with liquid grace, forcing Sonic to twist and leap with increasing desperation as he realized that it had chosen to corner him in such a way that a easy escape was impossible. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the bot, but he didn’t need to look to know that Shadow was rapidly closing in. He slipped around slashing claws and dragged the blade of his prosthetic in between Leon’s neck and shoulder. He left a gash across its armored plating, but did not break through. Right. It was a guardian, designed to face threats head on. Its armor was reinforced such that nothing could get past it, but if he could find a weakness elsewhere…

Sonic feinted back, just far enough to bait Leon into another pounce. As it sailed toward him, Sonic ducked and rolled, popping back up as it hit the ground. Its back faced him, and Sonic did not hesitate. He thrust his sword between through the center of its back, the plates of its armor. The blade carved through its lower back and up into its chest, and Leon began to seize and spark. It did not howl with pain as its body gave out, and Sonic didn’t wait around to feel sorry for it.

He glanced back over his shoulder as he ran off, just long enough to catch a glimpse of Shadow rushing to the bot’s side. Sonic shook his head, and nearly tripped over the gate to a service elevator. 

Jackpot. The elevator was high above Sonic’s head, and wasn’t going anywhere. Why wait around when the shaft extended into the depths of the Catacombs, if only to serve as a convenient escape route for enemies of the state? Sonic hopped over the gate and prepared to jump for it. Too late, he heard the hum of a stun baton running hot, and then he was subjected to 50,000 volts between his ribs.

Sonic’s body failed him. Pain seized his waking thoughts, and his muscles ceased to respond to the fight or flight directives that so desperately wanted to keep him alive. He could do nothing to slow his plunge into the utility shaft, nor lessen the impact as his body struck the ground. By that point, he no longer knew whether it was the voltage or the drop that left him struggling to get to his feet.

The sound of Shadow touching down beside him seemed a million miles away, but they were soon standing over him. Sonic’s limbs did not obey his brain’s frantic demands to get up. His eyes drifted up to Shadow’s face, their expression unreadable. There was no heart in the scowl that remained affixed on their face, and their eyes reflected Sonic’s own existential panic. After what felt like an eternity—how long? The baton’s affects could only last a few seconds—Shadow bent down. They reached out, clasping a hand around Sonic’s wrist. It was a prelude to locked chains, heavy iron weighing down his limbs until the Empire could make an example of him. It should have been. But Shadow hauled Sonic up on shaking legs, and the hand braced against his shoulder did not restrain, but steadied him. When the desperation faded, and Sonic was safe and rested and unable to sleep, he would not be able to stop thinking about how still and quiet Shadow had been when they should have been breaking him beyond repair.

Sonic twisted out of their grasp and ran, growing more surefooted the farther he fled.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonia plays politics, Manic plays nice. Both of them are lying.

The reception was slapdash, but necessary, and the nobles of the Citadel would not turn down an opportunity to drink and gossip while the Voice of the Empire explained why the thorough destruction of Lord Frackington III’s factory was a good thing, actually. “Thank heavens Shadow was able to subdue the terrorist before he could harm any law-abiding citizens. If there is a lesson to be learned from this, it is that we must be ever vigilant against those who seek who destroy all that we’ve worked so hard to build. There will be an increased security presence in the Catacombs going forward. Rest assured, these criminals will be rooted out, no matter what dark corners they hide in.”

Bejeweled, lifelike dolls nibbled at fancy finger foods and cooed their admiration of Sonia’s courage, standing firm on the front lines alongside the Good Doctor’s soldiers. This part, Sonia enjoyed, if only because she had arranged things such that it would be political suicide for her peers to challenge her on her account of the afternoon’s fireworks. The same could not be said of her superiors within the military. Unfortunately, the constant fawning made it impossible for Manic to get a word in edgewise. Sonia hadn’t even noticed him. Going unnoticed was part of the plan, but Sonia usually had a knack for sensing when Manic had decided to show up uninvited. 

Then again, he wasn’t uninvited, not this time. Officially, he was Lady Bijoux’s personal assistant. His trim vest and bowtie said ‘coffee boy.’ His lack of makeup or statement jewelry said ‘unremarkable,’ unless someone was hoping to get an empty glass refilled. A sweep of the room had made it clear that no one knew enough to disprove Sonia’s narrative, which left Manic waiting for an opening to talk to the witnesses directly. There was no sign of Shadow, which Manic was truthfully glad for. The guy radiated astronomical levels of ‘don’t fuck with me’ energy, and Manic did not care to learn the hard way if the rumors of their vicious temper were true. That did, however, leave Sonia, who seemed to have no intention of abandoning her admiring entourage. Nothing left to do but wait, or—fuck it—refill the coffee, if only as a favor to the real coffee boy who definitely was not getting paid enough for this.

The real kitchen staff gave him some odd looks, but didn’t care enough to confront him. He refilled the pitcher from a sleek, polished machine. The dark brew did not look or smell any different than what he could find back home, despite the fact that the beans might be as expensive as the ring he had pocketed earlier in the night when boredom made his fingers twitchy. He treated himself to a cup; no sugar, but enough cream to soften the bitter burn. And when he headed back toward the parlor, he narrowly avoided spilling steaming coffee all over the Ultimate Lifeform.

Manic jerked back as if he had tripped over a rattlesnake. Hot coffee splashed over his hand, and he cringed but did not drop the pitcher. Shadow turned to stare, their eyes biohazard green with no sclera. Their pupils were cat-like slits that expanded as they focused on Manic, examining him with such intensity that he briefly debated the wisdom of turning tail and fleeing for his life. A terrible idea, obviously. If Shadow could go toe-to-toe with the Resistance’s finest, Manic didn’t stand a ghost of a chance. Still, Shadow’s silent scrutiny made it all but impossible to think rationally. It had been several seconds now, uncomfortable by any stretch. Was Shadow recognizing him as an interloper? Was Manic about to be the next dramatic arrest paraded before the aristocracy? Or was Shadow keeping their mouth shut for the same reason they were hiding from the party? Had they ever had a conversation with a stranger before?

Manic offered the only olive branch in his grasp. “Coffee?” he said.

Shadow blinked for the first time, as if startled by the question. Their pupils slitted, refocused, settling on the pitcher that Manic carried. After a beat, they held out their own mug, empty except for an inch of rapidly-cooling brown liquid at the bottom. That, at least, Manic could fix. He refilled Shadow’s cup. They stuck a hand in their pocket and pulled out a handful of sugar packets. One, two, three, they tore open the packets with their teeth and poured the precious crystals into their coffee, where they would inevitably settle at the bottom.

When Manic smiled, it wasn’t entirely fake. “Do all government supersoldiers have a sweet tooth, or is that just you?”

“There aren’t any others like me,” Shadow said. Their tone was grave, entirely inappropriate for the lighthearted conversation Manic was trying to strike up. That wouldn’t stop him from trying.

“That’s too bad,” he said. “If just one of you is taking out Freedom Fighters left and right, I bet the Good Doctor will be making an army of Shadows by the new year.”

“Unlikely,” Shadow said with a grimace. They didn’t offer any more information, and although Manic could feel reckless curiosity welling up like a habit he just couldn’t quit, he didn’t push. Little was known about the Ultimate Lifeform, and it was impossible to tell how much was propaganda. As much as Manic desperately wanted to know every secret and lie that had surrounded Shadow since they emerged from a test tube on the moon (according to the more entertaining but rather unfounded rumors), he had thus far avoided getting broken over Shadow’s knee, and he’d like to continue with that trend. Prying for classified information would not help his cause. At least, not that sort of classified information.

It wasn’t the in that Manic had been hoping for. But Sonia was going to be prickly, no matter how many rules she was willing to break for her favorite street rat. Shadow, on the other hand, seemed surprisingly open, at least when softened up by coffee with far too much sugar. Manic’s next move was going to be a bit of a gamble, but he didn’t hate his odds.

He turned, leaning up against the wall beside Shadow. If his elbow bumped against theirs, no one could prove that it was anything more than an accident. If Manic smiled, guileless and warm, it was only because he was trying to make a new friend. The Ultimate Lifeform was shorter than him by a few inches, which Manic was smart enough not to remark on or admit to finding cute. Shadow met his eyes, just for a moment, before abruptly looking away. Manic chose to take that as a good sign.

“I wasn’t expecting to find you back here,” he said. “Everyone wants to meet the hero of the hour.”

“Is that what she’s calling me?” Shadow said. Their growling voice dropped to little more than a whisper. Manic thought he detected a taste of insecurity. Then again, he might just be edging closer to the fulfillment of his apparent death wish.

“Obviously. Why wouldn’t she? Everyone gets jumpy when the Freedom Fighters show up this far downtown. Anyone who can stand up to them earns a few minutes in the spotlight, at least. You should try for a parade.” Shadow made a face as if the mere thought of being the central attraction in a parade was a fate worse than death. To each their own. Manic wouldn’t mind a parade, but he knew better than to swerve out of his lane. Instead, he leaped on the opportunity that presented itself to him. He let his smile drop, replaced by furrowed brows and wide, concerned eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? Is it something I said? Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Shadow raised their hand, stopping Manic mid-sentence. “No, it’s not— I simply don’t believe that my actions today are worthy of celebration.”

Manic laughed, deliberately missing the mark by a nautical mile. “Brave AND humble. You’re the whole package, aren’t you?”

Startled, Shadow’s next sentence devolved into embarrassed mumbling, which they hid in their coffee cup. Manic, not quite subtly, slipped closer until his shoulder nudged against Shadow’s. “Sorry,” he said, still smiling warm and far too familiar. “I mean, it’s true, but that isn’t what you wanted to hear, is it?”

Up close, Manic could see the bruise brushed across Shadow’s nose and cheek. The color was unusual, mottled gray untouched by red or purple. Manic wondered, if he got any closer, what color would Shadow blush?

He didn’t get the chance. A pointed ‘ahem’ made Manic suddenly aware of what being caught in a secluded hallway with someone like him would do to Shadow’s reputation. Neither of them moved, because the voice was familiar.

“Is he bothering you, Shadow?” Sonia said.

“No,” they muttered, and Manic’s innocent smile was not entirely fake.

Without asking, Sonia held out her own empty cup, which Manic refilled. “Who let you in?” she said.

“I’ll have you know I was invited,” he said. It was almost true, even if Sonia didn’t believe it for a second. She rolled her eyes. Although her makeup had been expertly reapplied, Manic knew there would be dark smudges beneath them when she looked in the mirror that night. She planted one hand on her hip, but her shoulders slumped just a centimeter beneath their characteristic poise. It had been a long day, and Manic was not without sympathy.

“Whatever,” Sonia said. “I don’t actually care. Just don’t start shit, okay? Not tonight. Today’s been a rollercoaster, and I still have to get some beauty rest before tomorrow’s progress report.”

Manic’s smile softened. “Scout’s honor,” he said. “Tonight I will only cause problems that don’t inconvenience you directly.”

“Such a gentleman.” Sonia nodded to Shadow, whose expression could only be described as abject confusion. “Introductions are in order. This is Manic, my pet trashbag. Trashbag, this is Shadow. You’ve heard of them.”

“Sure have,” said Manic. “Everyone wants to meet the Ultimate Lifeform—everyone without a criminal record, that is. Don’t look too closely at my file, ‘kay? Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about his record. He’s harmless,” Sonia said, while Manic feigned offense. He was a master criminal, thank you very much. Very clever, very sinister, fuck you. Then again, he supposed it was for the best if Shadow thought of him as a pitiful-but-cute stray rather than a threat to be eliminated. And perhaps it was best not to remind Sonia, either, that just because he had never turned his machinations against her didn’t mean that he was harmless.

He’d protested when first Rouge suggested that he leverage his friendship with Sonia for information. Manic was not above charming people and stabbing them in the back, but some people were off limits. Sonia had been one of those people since he was a teenager, since he was alone and scared out of his mind and Sonia had offered friendship when all others turned him away. 

Rouge’s expression softened. She couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Manic, but for a moment she looked ancient. Manic knew well the look in her eyes, the look of someone who had grown up before they were ready, who reached adulthood already exhausted, but with no choice but to carry on. “I get it,” she said, and Manic believed her. “That’s sweet of you, it really is, but don’t forget who’s pulling the strings.”

Manic could make exceptions for Sonia, but the Empire would never offer him the same mercy. His heart broke, just a bit. A little glimmer of idealism slipped away, one he didn’t know was there until he felt its absence. But Rouge was right. Sonia might forgive him eventually, but all the same, he hoped she never found out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonia recalls the past, both distant and recent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, it's time to add the Mind Control tag, as we start discussing roboticization. It came out a bit spooky, a bit tragic, and it's definitely going to get worse as the story progresses. Sorry fam, I love happy endings, but we've got some angst to get through before then (I'm not actually sorry)
> 
> Also: Manic gets referred to as 'she.' Manic is genderfluid and defaults to he/him, but switches between pronouns. Different characters are likely going to refer to him using different gendered language over the course of the story.

It sounded like the beginning of a riddle. A politician and a thief are dear friends. Each of them knows that the other is a masterful liar. Why then do they trust each other? ‘Trust’ was not a word that Sonia used lightly, and trusting someone like Manic appeared astonishingly stupid on every level. And yet she did; perhaps unwilling to admit it, to him or herself, but wholeheartedly in a way that she had not allowed herself to be vulnerable in quite some time. And she knew exactly why.

They were sixteen when Manic, lonely and desperate and far too clever for his own good, crossed unnoticed from the Underworld into the Citadel. There he picked locks and slipped past security and made his way into one of Robotropolis’ grand estates, from where a single stolen heirloom could provide more money than he had ever seen in his short life—if he made it out alive. There, he happened into the bedroom of one Frances Windermere, the only mother Sonia had ever known. A lingering illness left her bedridden, her eyes cloudy, her skin ashen and cold. Manic did not know that her illness was not terminal, but that these episodes were becoming more and more frequent, and her recovery from each seemed slower. He learned very quickly that fever and fatigue did not leave her in full possession of her wits. Taking one look at him, scrawny and baby-faced, with pants torn at the knees and hair stubbornly frizzing out of its ponytail, Frances broke into a smile and greeted Sonia. She had waited far too long, it seemed, to break from her studies and visit her dear, sweet mother. Wouldn’t she put on a pot of tea, and the two of them could have a nice chat? They never seemed to chat, these days.

Manic, faced with the confused but heartfelt love of an ailing mother, immediately forgot how to lie. But Frances paid no attention to, nor even seemed to hear his protests that he was not her daughter, in fact he had broken in but was having second thoughts about robbing her now that she was inviting him to tea. It wasn’t long before Manic caved. He’d never made tea before. If Frances noticed that the leaves were scalded or that he had added far too much sugar, she did not care, and was far more interested in learning how ‘Sonia’ was getting on with her new history tutor—the best in the city, of course.

When the real Sonia returned from her lessons, she found by her mother’s bedside a scrappy, half-starved child whose first instinct upon meeting an ailing stranger was to keep her company. This, she believed, was at Manic’s core. As the two of them left childhood behind, each cloaking themselves in uncounted layers of distance and deception—the only armor against a world that did not care whether they lived or died—Sonia still caught rare glimpses of that core shining through. Sonia clung to the belief that if her armor failed her, there was one person, at least, who would not tear into her like a starving scavenger. There were days when Sonia thought she might lose herself in a maze of glittering glass and illusion, but Manic was solid ground beneath her feet. With him she could wait until she got her bearings and found that the way forward was clear once more.

Once, Mom Windermere had done the same. Sonia had known from early on that she had been adopted. She was sharp where Frances was gentle, brilliant where Frances was grounded. Sonia burned far too bright for the court, vultures draped in peacock feathers that would gladly cut down a friend or rival for their more vibrant plumage. Frances Windermere was a Lady, and so Sonia would be as well. Stand up straight and command attention, but hide your flaws, hide your face behind rosy powder and gloss. Weigh every word against what your company wants to hear, and construct arguments that leave no opening for a parry and riposte. Do not smother the fire within, but do not let it burn for those who would snuff it out. Sonia had grown up perfect, but she wondered, sometimes, if she was what her mother had wanted, or if Frances Windermere had taught Sonia to survive the only way she knew.

As Sonia went from sixteen, to eighteen, to twenty, her mother’s cycles of sickness grew more frequent, dragged out longer, left her haggard and pale even after she was back on her feet. Frances Windermere was roboticized soon after Sonia began her first job within the Empire. Sonia did not bother with conspiracy theories, but there were those that strayed too close to the truth for comfort. Her mother had a metal body that resembled a porcelain doll. Her skin was ceramic, a glossy ivory that even dirt and dust could not tarnish. Her lips were painted into a polite smile, warm but no longer soft. Her voice was unchanged, and during their lengthy conversations over the phone, Sonia might forget that anything had changed. She might still be a little girl who refused to sit still as the nurse bandaged a scuffed knee, while Mom Windermere fretted over how she could have broken her neck and they would never get the stains out of her dress. Visits were far more painful. Mom Windermere insisted on having Sonia over for dinner, despite the fact that she no longer needed to eat. Sitting across from her mother, smiling placidly before an empty table setting, Sonia couldn’t silence the dread that clawed at the back of her mind.

Manic did not visit the Windermere estate anymore. No matter how often Mom Windermere asked after Sonia’s “little friend, what was her name again? The poor ragamuffin’s parents clearly needed to keep a more careful eye on her. Have you checked up on her lately? Is she doing alright? Is she eating enough? Do you think she would join us for dinner?” Sonia desperately wanted to believe that the concern in her mother’s voice was sincere. But there was no way of knowing, so long as Frances Windermere’s eyes were not her own, but replaced by delicate mechanical orbs, courtesy of the Good Doctor. Her body was healthier than it had ever been, but at what cost? Who else could see through her eyes? Her voice sounded the same, but who decided what she would say? How much was left of the woman who had caused Sonia to fall in love with theater by reading ancient dramas in place of a bedtime story, complete with makeshift props and a different voice for every character? Sonia realized, belatedly, that she had never known her mother very well. The thoughts, hopes, and fears of Frances Windermere had long been a mystery wrapped up in a gentle smile and impeccable etiquette. Now Sonia didn’t even know whether or not she was alive. Manic was not the only secret Sonia kept from her mother. From that point on, Sonia trusted less, and it hurt to love the same amount.

* * *

“So when are you gonna tell me what really happened down there?” It had taken very little to persuade Sonia to choose Manic’s company over the circling vultures. Together they slipped away to a locked conference room. Shadow tagged along, devoted as their namesake—and even more reluctant to face the aristocracy without Sonia as a buffer. Manic let the question slip as he worked on the door. An unruly curl dangled in his face while he used a bobby pin to tease the lock open. 

Sonia leaned over him, her elbow braced against the doorframe. “Depends. Do you have anything stronger than coffee?”

“Sorry sis, security had me turn out my pockets before they let me in.” Hence why Manic was using a hairpin instead of a real lockpick. But he made it work, because he was a god damn professional. The old-fashioned mechanisms clicked into place, and he held the door open for Sonia like a proper gentleman. Then he stopped Shadow with a hand on their chest. “Hold it, what’s the password?”

Confusion turned rapidly to indignation, which made Shadow’s eyes flash like warning lights in a quite literal sense. Manic jerked away as if he had been burned. “Easy tiger, don’t they have jokes on your home planet?” Comments like that weren’t likely to make Manic any safer. “Lucky you, the password is not vaporizing me with your magic powers. Come on in.”

“Watch it,” Sonia said. “They bite.”

“I do not,” Shadow said, at the same time Manic said, “Promise?” Without waiting to decide whether the flush rising to Shadow’s cheeks betrayed fury or embarrassment, Manic scurried out of arm’s reach. He decided to keep Sonia in between him and the Empire’s favorite supersoldier for a while, just in case.

“So,” he said, planting himself in an overstuffed office chair that rolled back under the weight of his enthusiasm. “Give me those deets. I have to know just how far off the rails this whole thing went.”

“Well, as hilarious as it was watching Shadow blast millions of credits worth of machinery into rubble…” Sonia helpfully confirmed at least one of Manic’s questions; Shadow blushed neon green. “Our original objective involved far less property damage. The change of plan would have been worth it if we’d actually been able to make the arrest, but the poor sucker that got framed for the whole thing was picked up halfway across the city.”

“You’re tellin’ me that you, the Ultimate Lifeform, and god knows how many robots had a freedom fighter cornered, and you didn’t go in for the kill?”

“We tried,” Sonia said, venom and humor lacing her voice in equal measure. “And if had been just ‘A Freedom Fighter,’ it wouldn’t have been a fight at all. Sonic, on the other hand…”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” Manic said, hardly trying to hide the grin that stretched across his face. “That crazy son of a bitch doesn’t quit.”

“He does not. I tased him and dropped him down an elevator shaft, and he was back up and running before Shadow could get to him.”

Shadow was pointedly looking away, their arms crossed and shoulders hunched, not unlike a child getting ready to launch into a legendary tantrum. Manic resisted the urge to rub salt in the wound and instead said, “Hey, don’t take it personally. I hear failing to arrest Sonic Charley is basically an Imperial Rite of Passage. You’ll get him next time, I’m sure.”

“They almost certainly will not,” said Sonia.

“I mean, yeah, but I was trying to be nice. Sorry, sweetheart. But if it makes you feel better, he’s probably back home telling all the other enemies of the state what a badass you are.”

Some of the tension eased out of Shadow’s posture. They nodded, their ego minimally appeased. “I doubt he’ll be as quick to underestimate me the next time we meet.”

“That’s the spirit!” Manic shot a big broad smile and a wink; a direct hit, judging by the way Shadow flustered and turned away once more. Manic decided to give the poor guy a break. Sonia had realized mid-sip that her coffee cup was empty, and now she glowered at it like it had challenged her to a duel. She didn’t notice Manic gather his nerves and smooth out his voice so that his next words sounded like an idle thought, rather than the question he’d been turning over in his mind all evening. “What I don’t get is what the Resistance wants out of the Catacombs.”

“I have some theories,” Sonia said. “But I was hoping you might have some insight.”

“Why would I know? You know I’m not a capital-S Sympathizer.” It was a half-lie that both of them knew was a half-lie, which made it circle around to being not a lie at all. “And I haven’t heard anything from my non-Resistance cohorts either. I know some people who snoop around down there when they need a place to hide, but I know way more who get lost and run into a patrol or, you know, don’t find anyone or the way out.”

“Curious. I thought the Thieves Guild knew every inch of Robotropolis.”

“We know most of ‘em, for sure. But the Catacombs are a whole ‘nother story. Anytime you’ve got that mix of long and dark, it’s easy to get turned around. Not to mention how superstitious people get, especially when tech stops working right. I knew one guy who spent a few days down below; when he came out he swore up and down that the tunnels were changing direction every time he blinked.”

“That’s not as helpful as you think it is.”

“Are you sure? I wasn’t trying to be helpful.”

“Touche.” Sonia tried again to drink from her empty cup, then sighed and set it down just out of arm’s reach. “At least Sonic gave us an excuse to swarm the place with SwatBots. There’ll be fewer places for rebels to hide, and with any luck we can expand our functional map.”

They might not have a complete map, but Manic was starting to figure out his path forward. What was the Resistance looking for in the Catacombs? More importantly, what was Sonia looking for in the Catacombs? There came a time when Sonia needed to return to the reception, to bid farewell to her doting audience and decide how to spin her report up the chain of command. She’d had a long day, and had a long night ahead. She couldn’t be blamed for not noticing when deft fingers plucked her clutch purse from the inner pocket of her jacket. Manic had always assumed that Sonia knew him too well, that he’d never be able to get one past her. But he was very, very good at his job.

He didn’t touch Sonia’s money, the spare diamond earrings she kept just in case, her favorite shade of lipstick. All he needed was a disc the size of a silver coin, assuming his gamble was on the mark. Returning Sonia’s purse was an unnecessary risk, but he did it anyway. He owed her that much (he owed her so much more than he could ever repay).


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our players move into position

In preparation for the excursion into the Catacombs, Sonia had been given a map. Whatever egghead had detected ambient chaos energy had triangulated the readings and constructed a rudimentary map; incomplete, but hopefully narrowing down the emerald’s location effectively enough that Shadow would have a head start on their search. Despite having it memorized, Sonia carried a copy with her on the mission. She had kept it in her purse, saved on a small silver drive that was now nowhere to be found. Hence why she was now losing her mind. 

As a child, she had been an inconvenient mix of flighty and fastidious, prone to setting things down and only realizing hours or days later that she did not remember where she last had it. These days, she had carefully constructed organizational systems in place in order to avoid this exact scenario. While this meant that she only rarely lost track of something important, those rare occasions quickly drove her to madness. She had kept the drive in her purse. She had showered and changed in between the mission and the reception, but she had not removed the drive, and at the end of the night her purse was exactly where it should be, tucked safely inside her suit jacket. Nothing was missing but the drive. Where the hell and fuck was the drive. The irony did not escape her that she was searching frantically for a disc that contained a map. She did not find this fact especially funny.

By the time she was due to report to command, Sonia was ready to tear her hair out. She did not do this, of course, because the fact that her hair remained impeccably styled was among the few things tethering her to sanity. She cut her losses and headed to her meeting, resolving not to tell a soul.

Despite Sonia’s careful punctuality, she was not the first to arrive. This was not unusual. The Good Doctor’s assistant had an uncanny ability to be somewhere just a minute or two before he was expected. Just early enough to take someone off guard. He stood over a glass table on which a screen was projected. He scrolled slowly through a document whose words Sonia couldn’t quite make out, and when she stepped into the room he swiped his hand over the screen to clear it. When he stood up straight, he was a hair taller than Sonia, although he did not seem to loom the way other Imperial officials tended to. He greeted her with a nonthreatening smile and a handshake, as if they were equals, as if he couldn’t erase Sonia’s entire existence with a handful of digital commands.

“Good morning,” Stone said. “I hope you got some rest after last night’s drama.”

“Unfortunately, there’s no rest for the wicked,” Sonia said with a wry smile, carrying on the illusion that this was a strategy meeting between coworkers, nothing more. “I’ll wager you haven’t slept either.” Truthfully, she wasn’t sure if he ever slept. She wasn’t sure if he needed to. Stone, first name unknown to her, had been a soldier once, in a different life. She did not know what strange twist of fate brought him to serve as Dr Robotnik’s personal assistant, or how he had suffered the injury that necessitated his transformation into something not-quite-human. Partial roboticization was uncommon and poorly understood, even given that full roboticization may as well have been black magic compared to conventional robotics. There were rumors that the Good Doctor had upgraded Stone personally, interfacing him with all the interlocking databases that made the empire tick. If Mobius was a machine, Robotnik was its creator, and Stone its motherboard. And yet he appeared human on the surface, at least until he turned around to reveal the exposed patches of circuitry at regular intervals along his spine. His suit covered all but the very first, which rested at the nape of his neck.

His laugh sounded human. His skin felt human where he clasped Sonia’s hand, firm and polite. Sonia wondered how much was a remnant of his old life. She wondered if he had been kind. She wouldn’t bet on it.

“I wanted to ask some questions about yesterday’s operation,” he said, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. “Put simply, I need to know what went wrong. I don’t need to remind you how high the stakes are.”

Or the consequences of failure. “Of course,” Sonia said, taking a seat. “I assume you’ve already spoken with Leon.”

“I have, but if you don’t mind starting from the beginning.”

Sonia didn’t try to lie. There was no point, nor did she have a chance of spinning the truth even if she wanted to. Leon too had been a soldier, and it was not in her programming to conceal the truth from her superiors. Sonia recounted every detail, from relaying the plan to Shadow, to distracting Lord Frackington III while they conducted their search, to being rudely interrupted by Public Enemy Number One. Although she knew that her performance had objectively left nothing to be ashamed of, she still simmered with resentment at the memory of Sonic’s body seizing up, stunned and helpless and plummeting to certain doom, only to slip through her fingers like fog.

“Leon reported that you conducted yourself admirably,” Stone said. “I am concerned that Sonic was still able to get away.”

His tone was not accusatory, and Sonia could not blame him for his confusion. In truth, the same question still ricocheted around the inside of her skull. Shadow couldn’t have reached Sonic more than a second or two after he hit the ground. The effects of the stun baton lasted at least five seconds, and a drop from that height should have incapacitated him for much longer. A theory was starting to form in Sonia’s head, but she did not offer it. She was growing far too fond of Shadow to throw them under the bus. Still, if her suspicions were correct, she might just have to tear them a new one herself. “He’s demonstrated his unique resilience more times than I care to remember,” she said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he landed on his feet and sprinted backwards to whatever safehouse he’s hiding in, middle fingers raised the whole way.”

“You may be right, however I will not be raising that possibility with the Doctor. He’s already displeased that the emerald remains at large, and we can’t rule out the possibility that the rebels are looking for it as well.”

Sonia swung rapidly from petty delight at Robotnik’s temper tantrum as Sonic escaped him once more to ice-cold dread at the knowledge of what he would do if the Resistance beat them to their prize. If it came to that, it might not matter how flawless her performance was. The Doctor was a relentless taskmaster, and humans, with all their inefficiencies, had a very hard time keeping him pleased.

She thought, for a moment, to the disc that had seemed to vanish into thin air. As embarrassing as it would be to have simply misplaced it, the alternative—that someone else had found it—was nothing short of disastrous. Sonia quickly squashed the unease that turned her stomach before it could show on her face. All was not lost. She simply would not fail a second time.

* * *

The Catacombs were flooded with SwatBots. Given how frequently tech tended to go dark in the deepest parts of Robotropolis, several of them were not likely to re-emerge at the end of the night. The Empire didn’t seem to care, so long as they frightened away any Freedom Fighters who had their eyes on the emerald. Sonic didn’t scare easy. If he was nervous, it was for a reason that had nothing to do with the SwatBots.

Back in Knothole, he stretched out on lumpy couch, clutching an ice pack to the back of his head—partly to soothe the ache, partly to keep Sally from examining the growing bruise too closely. The Freedom Fighters didn’t need any further reason to fuss over him. Sonic had had enough of that for his taste, and he had a feeling he was going to get more, whether he wanted it or not. Rotor could not be dissuaded from examining his prosthetic, despite the fact that he had made it back just fine and already checked himself for damage. He could repair his own leg, thank you very much. Still, even Sonic had to pick his battles. He lay with his shoulders braced against the armrest, his legs (both organic and metallic) draped across Rotor’s lap. The prosthetic was the part of him that ached the least, although he would rather die than groan in pain. He wasn’t stupid enough to admit to hurting while Sally was standing over him, arms crossed and lips twisted into a scowl, anxiety poorly disguised as annoyance. It was an expression Sonic was more familiar with than he’d like, although he admittedly deserved it more often than she would like. Intel was the only thing that stood a chance at appeasing her, and Sonic was glad to deliver. They discussed in detail Shadow’s capabilities, whether they might be robotic or organic or some strange combination of both, and how they could be more effectively countered in future engagements.

Sonic didn’t discuss the moment that Shadow could have had him, but chose not to. He didn’t intend to keep it a secret. If anything, Sally stood a far better chance of parsing out the meaning of Shadow’s mercy. But each time he thought back to the look on their face, the words died on his lips, unable to even begin to untangle the confusion that tied his brain in knots. Another time, he decided. When he and Sally could speak in private. Then again, he didn’t relish the idea of telling her exactly how close he’d flown to the sun.

What he said was, “They’re going to be pissed when I show up bright and early tomorrow.” It was true, of course. There was no question of not making another try for the emerald, and privately, Sonic relished the chance at a rematch. He’d be more careful not to get cornered this time.

“When we show up,” Sally corrected him.

Sonic nearly kicked Rotor in the face. “What do you mean, ‘we?’” His voice couldn’t decide whether to settle on indignant or petulant.

“I mean the stakes are too high to fail, and I don’t want you going in by yourself a second time, especially now that they’ve increased security and know you’re coming.” Sally’s tone was matter-of-fact, loaded with the unshakeable certainty that her judgment was correct. Sonic knew that she was well past any chance of changing her mind. Arguing was useless, which did not stop him from trying.

“Sal, I can handle it. And yeah, they’re gonna roll out the welcome mat, which is exactly why you shouldn’t be there.” It wasn’t that Sally couldn’t take care of herself. Quite the opposite. There was no one Sonic trusted more by his side, and she was absolutely correct in that they stood a better chance if they went as a pair. But this wasn’t about him, and it wasn’t about her.

Sonic had always gravitated toward the spotlight, and it was hardly any surprise when the Empire took notice. It was a bit surprising when he was marked as the leader of the Resistance out of the Great Forest. One might think that Sonic’s habit of throwing himself feet-first into any dangerous situation he could find would be evidence against his strategic prowess, but he wasn’t about to put a memo out to the Empire’s bounty hunters saying ‘I mean yeah I’m hot shit, but you know who you should be looking for if you really want to wreck our whole shop?’ He was quite happy to paint a target on his back rather than Sally’s. She was less personally gratified by the illusion, and the knowledge that it placed Sonic in greater danger every time he left the safety of Knothole, but the strategy was solid. Outnumbered, outgunned, the Freedom Fighters needed every advantage they could get, and if the Empire’s spotlight was fixed on Sonic, that left her with greater agency to set the stage. For the good of the Resistance, for the good of Mobius, she let the deception continue. But at times like this, when Sonic was preparing for a battle that had every likelihood of being his last, she chafed at the heavy weight on her shoulders.

But, like she said, the stakes had never been higher. Sonic could hear in her voice that she had been dissecting this decision from every angle from the moment it became clear that tonight’s mission would end in a stalemate. She had made up her mind before Sonic made it back to Knothole. Every wince Sonic failed to hide was further evidence that she was correct. And Sonic would not be able to talk her out of it, but god, he would try.

“I’m the only one who can stay ahead of Shadow,” he said. “I know you’re a stone-cold badass, but this guy is something else.”

“Oh?” Sally said, a gleam in her eye that Sonic did not like. That look usually meant he was about to lose the argument, but she couldn’t make him lose with dignity. “Do you believe that my presence on this mission will be an unnecessary risk? Do you wish I would show more concern for my own safety? Does the thought of me hurling myself into the line of fire worry you, Sonic?”

It was a trap. True to form, Sonic charged in head-first. “Yes!” he said. Rotor snorted, and this time Sonic did kick him in the face (very gently, careful not to leave so much as a bruise).

“That’s lovely of you,” Sally said, saccharine and smug. “And I can certainly empathize with the desire to shield one’s dear friend from harm. So you’ll agree that it’s safest if we go after the emerald together.”

Whether or not Sonic agreed was not the issue, and would not affect his protests that carried on well into the wee hours of the morning. It did not change the fact that when he set out for Robotropolis not long after, Sally was by his side, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

The SwatBots didn’t need to sleep. Neither did Manic, so long as he was running high on a thrill that bordered on panic. His racing heart as he slipped into the Catacombs threatened to make him live up to his name, but he didn’t let his nerves get the better of him. Danger was background noise that he knew well. The only chance he had of getting out alive was by not losing his cool. So he took a deep breath and tapped his fingers against his thigh, matching the rhythm to his near-silent footsteps, the rumble of distant machinery, the clockwork repetition of SwatBot patrols. In the quiet between beats, Manic moved unseen and unheard, invisible so long as he was unremarkable. His heart never stopped pounding, however, knowing that overconfidence—or the slightest misstep—would doom him as reliably as the swivel of a SwatBot’s flashlight toward him as he ducked around a corner.

There must have been a whole army down here. The full force of the Empire was bearing down on the Catacombs—in search of what? Manic took a moment to steady himself, to tamp down the terror that rose up as he wondered what the hell he was doing. Why was he putting his neck on the line when he didn’t know what was waiting for him at the end of the tunnel? For years, Manic had survived by keeping his head down; then again, he supposed that ended the day he walked away with Rouge Bijoux’s diamonds. Whatever the Empire was seeking, it had to be important. If the Resistance was also making a play, it must be a threat. Manic wasn’t a Capital S Sympathizer, but he knew that once the Resistance was crushed, the Empire would gleefully turn its attention to petty scumbags like him. And on the off-chance that this gambit of his succeeded, if there was some priceless treasure glittering in the deep… Well, it had been far too long since the Thieves Guild had some leverage in Robotropolis.

Manic took a deep breath, his fingers tapping out beats. In for four, hold eight, out eight. It didn’t quiet the towering dread, but let it settle in the background, giving Manic a clearer view of the big picture and, more importantly, the way forward. He brought up Sonia’s map on his handheld, reviewing it despite the fact that he had already memorized every twist of the tunnels it charted. He was not far, now, from one of the sections that had been flagged. No way out but through. He set out once more.

This far down, the tunnels were dark, but not still. Even when Manic was alone, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something hummed just outside of his perception. The longer he walked, the stronger the feeling became, although it was never so clear that Manic would determine what it meant, or even fully convince himself that it was more than his imagination. The deep darkness didn’t help. What few tunnels still had lights were few and far between. The radiant glow of the SwatBots around each corner was the brightest light Manic could rely on, and he didn’t dare shine a light of his own. Infrared goggles cast the setting in shades of green, but in the darkest passages, where there was not even a glimmer to filter into the visible spectrum, Manic was all but blind, guiding his steps with a hand on the wall and his memory of the broken map. At moments like this, the idea of an unseen presence was overwhelming. The stone beneath his feet, brushing against his fingertips, trembled as if alive. Impatient. Manic thought back to the tales of shifting passages, lost souls wandering forever beneath the earth. Were the walls closer than they had been a moment before? It was not until a blinding beam of light forced Manic to duck into a cramped corner that he realized how the dark and claustrophobic had quieted his fear to a murmur. The tunnels did not scare him so much as the knowledge that he wasn’t alone. In the deep and dark he was safe, but there was an army of enemies ready to drag him into the light.

The SwatBot’s footsteps were heavy and even against the concrete. Manic tracked its presence by the sound as it echoed off the walls, until those footsteps carried it around another turn and out of sight. The tunnel dimmed, but did not plunge back into darkness. The tunnels ahead were lit with ancient, flickering fluorescents. Behind his glasses, Manic’s eyes adjusted to the sickly green glow. 

He couldn’t hear another patrol, but he knew better to believe that the path forward was unguarded. Peering around the corner, his heart sank. Shadow stood, back ramrod straight, their head turned to affix their gaze on Manic’s hiding place. In the pale, flickering gray, their eyes gleamed like twin stars. Their expression was identical to the one they wore when Manic first met them, and every bit as unreadable. What did Shadow see, when they looked at him? 

Manic didn’t wait around to find out. He stumbled back, recognizing too late the fall of metal footsteps. For an instant he was blinded, his body illuminated in a merciless beam of light. They could see him, mark him, and the weight of scrutiny was greater than the miles of bedrock above their heads. Manic fled, sprinting back into the endless maze—too late, as the cacophony of a blaring alarm echoed in his wake.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes chart a course towards chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding the Sonic/Sally tag, because although they're not explicitly romantic in this chapter, their relationship IS very important to me and the story. Might also have to add the Sonia/Rouge tag for... reasons.

One SwatBot was little more than an inconvenience, but though Sonic and Sally had been perfecting the art of dispatching them since they were much too young to be raising arms against tyranny, one SwatBot could not be destroyed without alerting the others. And there were so many, even Sonic had little intention of starting a fight. The little-known tunnels he’d been able to map the previous night came in handy as they made their approach. Sally, perched on Sonic’s back, held out Nicole’s console so that they could both see the screen, although Sonic could only glance at it as he raced through the passages bringing them miles beneath the city. “Looks like Robotnik knows something we don’t,” Sally said. “Our best bet is to search the areas with the highest level of security. If we time it right, they’ll lead us right to the emerald.”

Or they might pick a fight they couldn’t win, but neither let that possibility faze them. Both sides had their eyes on the prize, and whoever hesitated would lose. If Sonic and Sally turned and ran and lost the emerald without a fight, their lifespans weren’t likely to increase by much. But it was Sally’s job to worry about the stakes. It was Sonic’s job to spring into action. “Looks like there’s a couple options,” he said. “Wanna split up or take ‘em one at a time?”

“Split up,” Sally said. “We stand a better chance if they can’t decide whether to focus their efforts.” Nicole helpfully marked three likely targets on the map. Sally dropped a pin in one. “I’ll take one, you take two. We’ll meet up here—” She marked a tunnel near the third target. Sonic thought he remembered that one; it hadn’t been on the outdated map, and the entrance was easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it. “—Unless one of finds the emerald, in which case all the bets are off.”

Sally didn’t like to improvise, but desperate times and so on. They could make this work. Sonic mentally charted a course to his targets and memorized the rendezvous point. Truthfully, he didn’t like the idea of splitting up, but Sally was right. Once they were in the thick of it, they would be swarmed. Their best advantage was to keep moving, do as much damage as possible without getting pinned down. The more attention Sonic drew to himself, the more Sally would have space to breathe, maybe even gather some desperately needed intel. “Yes ma’am,” he said. The grin on his face was as effortless as breathing. Never mind how high the stakes were; quick reflexes, laser focus, and muscle memory would be enough to carry him through. And if they weren’t, well, that wouldn’t be his problem for long. “Let’s wreck this joint.”

Nicole flashed an alert, signaling that they were leaving the relative safety of secrecy behind. Sonic skidded to a halt and let Sally drop to her feet. Not far away, they could hear familiar metal footfalls. Sally tucked Nicole safely into an inner pocket, then did one final check on her equipment. All of it had been carefully maintained, checked, and double-checked long before they left Knothole, but the ritual was important for clearing her head. Black bands around her wrists each contained a lightweight grappling hook on one side, an electric blade on the other. Night vision goggles were secured over her eyes, and her earpiece ensured she could maintain contact with both Sonic and Nicole, so long as they had signal. They wouldn’t be able to watch each other’s back, not the way they wanted to. Still, the knowledge that they were working as a pair made the possibility of victory seem less remote, regardless of the unrealistic odds. She covered one ear and spoke into her earpiece, “How are we feeling?”

Sonic heard her voice echo in his own ear. He grinned, cocksure and carefree, if only on the surface, and held out his fist. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said.

Sally bumped her knuckles against his, and although she could not smile under these circumstances, her eyes softened for just a moment. Then her expression turned grim, but never fearful. “Let’s bounce.”

* * *

Once again, there was no word from Shadow. Sonia knew that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Perhaps they had entered one of the long stretches of labyrinth in which communications tended to go silent. Perhaps they were focused on the task at hand and only a few minutes from contacting her with good news. Sonia’s mind kept slipping back to the feeling of dread which questioned whether what she thought she knew was true. Had she been lied to? Shadow seemed guileless, prickly but honest. She couldn’t imagine them looking her in the eye and saying anything they knew to be false. But did she know that? Was she truly as skilled a judge of character as she thought, as she needed to be?

This line of thinking was worse than useless. She needed to keep her attention on the mission. Her position was precarious, and a chaos emerald was just the leverage she needed. If Shadow did not report back soon, she would set out herself. To hell with artificial lifeforms and mythical sixth senses; her own two hands had never let her down before.

When the door opened, Sonia was too busy being startled into silence to be disappointed that it was not Shadow, chaos emerald in hand. Rouge Bijoux stood in the doorway, partially hidden behind Leon’s hulking silhouette. The bot regarded Rouge with suspicion that bordered on hostility, which Sonia could not blame her for. Although this building was just outside the Catacombs proper, it was well within the area that had been closed off for the purposes of the mission. Either Rouge had a far higher security clearance than Sonia had guessed, or several guards needed to be taken out back and shot. It was tempting to give her the benefit of the doubt; even now, Sonia struggled to think of anything that wasn’t a knowing smile, a promise of more to come. The alarm ringing between her ears didn’t quiet.

“Goodness,” Rouge purred, looking Leon up and down. Her eyes lingered on the bot’s side, repaired but still marked by a nasty scar in the metal. “Don’t you look dangerous. May I speak with Lady Windermere? I promise I’m not here to make mischief.”

Unconvinced, Leon lowered her head, chest rumbling with a resonant growl. Sonia stopped her with a sharp word. “Let her pass,” she said. Mischief? No, she would never accuse Lady Bijoux of mischief. But what else would bring her here? Curiosity was a powerful thing, and it was very difficult to say no when face-to-face with Rouge’s glittering smile.

Leon stepped aside, but did not take her eyes off of Rouge for a second. The bot took up position beside Sonia, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Sonia found it adorable, really. If Rouge was dangerous, it would not be through violence. In fact, violence would be far easier to deal with than temptation and the growing apprehension that nothing was as it seemed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” she said.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday,” Rouge said. For a moment, Sonia couldn’t recall what she was talking about. But she sounded so sincerely remorseful as she continued, “There was a matter that urgently needed my attention, however I regret my abrupt departure.”

The annoyance that simmered in Sonia’s chest was eased by the way Rouge swayed toward her, reaching out to take her hand. Sonia did not send her away, ignoring the knowledge that something was not as it should be. “I am in the middle of an urgent matter myself,” she said. “I would be glad to meet with you another time, my Lady, but I really must—”

Sonia was not wearing gloves, and the satin wrapped around Rouge’s fingers was soft against her skin. “I was enjoying your company, before we were so rudely interrupted. I would very much like to continue where we left off.”

She could not be serious, but there was no hesitation in Rouge’s posture. Every inch of her leaned toward Sonia, an offering, a glint of treasure in the dark. Sonia had longed many a time to see her lipstick smear on Rouge’s skin, to learn if desire made her voice pitch low or high. Why offer now? Did it matter, when the temptation was so sweet?

“Leon,” Sonia said, her voice carefully even. “Give us a moment.” If Leon was capable of questioning orders, she would certainly have argued. Even still, Sonia caught a glimpse of the guardian’s incredulous glare as she closed the door behind her.

Rouge’s smile widened, laced with an edge of real delight. “I did not stop thinking about you all night,” she said, and Sonia believed her. If not for the unusual circumstances, the sentiment would have been shared.

“As much as I would love to give you more reason to think of me, I can’t. Not now.” It was a last, desperate attempt at professionalism. It was an impossible task, to focus on a mythical gem while Rouge so expertly drew her in, but oh, she tried. “Come see me tonight, and I’ll make it worth the wait.”

Rouge was much taller than her, and she cast Sonia in shadow as she leaned down. Mere inches separated them, and Sonia felt the last of her self-control slip from between her fingers. “I don’t want to wait,” Rouge said.

Well. Surely just a taste couldn’t hurt.

* * *

If not for the multitude of corners to hide behind, Manic would have been vaporized on sight. As it was, it was all he could do to stay two steps ahead of his pursuers, and with each passing second more SwatBots became aware of his presence. At the very least, if Manic was shot, he wouldn’t have time to regret letting Rouge coax him into the deep end. Then again, being shot was merciful compared to the horror show of tragic fates that could befall one who wound up on the Empire’s shit list. Manic would rather not think about that. Fortunately, his thoughts were quite occupied with remembering the more remote paths where he might find a hiding place. Reading Sonia’s incomplete map was difficult enough when he wasn’t tearing along at a full sprint, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to stop and ask for directions.

He took a right, two lefts, crouched in an alcove until a bot stormed by, then doubled back the way he came. Which way was the exit? Which way was the target? Which way was the nearest SwatBot? Manic knew the answer to only one of those questions with absolute certainty, and unfortunately it was the third. He jolted to a halt just in time to narrowly avoid leaping into the arms of a towering metal soldier. If only he had time to duck away from the wrist-mounted cannon leveled at his chest.

Which would be less painful, an arrest or a swift execution? Would he be roboticized? Would he know that he had been roboticized, or would the overwriting of his personality be its own sort of inner peace?

Manic’s five stages of grief were cut short at the same moment the SwatBot was, carved in two by an electric blue blade. The bot’s head and one shoulder slid to the ground, while the rest comically remained standing. Manic sidled to the side until the still-raised weapon was no longer pointed right at him.

“Are you lost?” Manic’s knight in shining armor said. It was a voice he’d heard plenty of, although never in person. Sonic Charley was shorter than he’d expected, but Manic still felt very small compared to him.

“That’s a weird way of saying ‘thank you,’” Manic said. “And after I went to all this trouble distractin’ the bots for you.”

Sonic laughed, dry but not unkind. “Fair enough. You did a damn good job kickin’ the hornet’s nest. Usually that’s my whole thing.”

Much like a hive full of furious, stinging insects, the labyrinth had not quieted now that a single bot had been downed. Any second, more would converge on their location, and if Manic had any sense he would already be making a break for it. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t, except that it felt kind of nice to make Sonic laugh. “Don’t let me steal your thunder, dude. I’ll just head out and you can do your Enemy of the State thing. Hey, which way’s the exit?”

In lieu of an answer, Sonic stepped forward and gripped either side of Manic’s waist. Manic could not be held responsible for any undignified yelps that may or may not have left him as Sonic lifted him like he weighed nothing. With Manic slung over his shoulder, Sonic took off just as another bot took aim. A laser blast scorched the ground where he had been standing just a moment ago.

If Manic hadn’t been lost before, he sure was by the time Sonic stopped. It had only been a few seconds, and yet it seemed like miles had flown by beneath his feet. Manic’s knees buckled as Sonic set him down, and it was only by bracing against the wall that he managed to salvage the last of his dignity. While he regained his bearings, Sonic scrolled through a holographic screen that projected from his wristband.

“Exit’s that way,” Sonic said, jerking his thumb in one direction. “Take two rights, then follow the tunnel that heads upward.”

“Hi Manic, nice to meet you, hey do you mind if I throw you over my shoulder like a sack of grain?”

Sonic had the sharp-toothed grin of one who was far too confident in his ability to take a punch. Manic was torn between admiration and bone-deep jealousy. “That’s a weird way of saying ‘thank you.’”

“See, it’s charm like that that has everyone in Robotropolis wanting your head on a pike.” Despite himself, Manic was grinning right back. At least, he was until harsh footsteps snapped him back to reality. He grabbed Sonic’s wrist and yanked them both off the main path, where the ground crumbled away, providing a convenient drop down to a lower level. No sooner than the two of them drop through the opening did the ambient light of searching SwatBots pass by. Sonic and Manic were still and quiet, their shadows traveling across the floor as the patrol approached and receded.

When they were alone once more, Manic dared to breathe. “And that’s my third close call of the night. I’ve got a three-strike policy, you see, and honestly? That’s way too many. See you around, except probably not, because I’d rather not have the Empire thinkin’ I’m in with your crazy rebel suicide mission.”

“You sure? The Resistance is always recruiting,” Sonic said.

“Absolutely sure. Look, I know I haven’t exactly been demonstratin’ it tonight, but I do have a shred of common sense. Later, dude. Stay frosty. Don’t get arrested.” As he spoke, Manic turned to grip the crumbling stone wall, scaling it with a spider’s grace.

“I could probably toss you back up, if you want,” Sonic said, to which Manic risked falling, sacrificing a handhold in order to flip him off. By the time he blinked, Sonic was gone. Manic huffed out a sigh, then hauled himself the rest of the way back to the upper level. He couldn’t vanish quite as quickly as the famed freedom fighter, but he didn’t plan to stick around. He at least needed to be somewhere else when Sonic realized that his wristband was missing. Manic didn’t head toward the exit.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonia is no longer distracted. Sonic and Sally wreck shop. Manic gets to the bottom of things.

When Shadow threw the door open, Sonia was in no position to greet them. Seeing Sonia pressed with her back to the wall, wilting in Rouge’s grasp, for a moment they thought that she was in danger. Sonia shoved Rouge away to see Shadow crouched and ready to pounce, chaos spear in hand. They froze, then, faltering at the sight of Sonia and the mess she had been reduced to. Her lipstick was smeared, a blend of Rouge’s black and Sonia’s wine red. Her jacket lay in a heap at her feet, her shirt untucked and unbuttoned. Despite this, Shadow was the first to look away, cheeks turning neon green, while Sonia schooled her expression into a brand of annoyance that was more appropriate in the workplace.

“What,” she snapped. “Is so important that you couldn’t take a second to knock?”

“There’s been a complication,” Shadow said, still pointedly looking away. “We need to move quickly, and I think you need to be there in person.”

Rouge sighed Sonia’s name, so sweet and sad that for a moment Sonia couldn’t believe that anything was important enough to make her leave. But she had already indulged quite enough for one workday. She placed her hand on Rouge’s cheek, pressed a kiss to pouting lips. “Tonight,” she said, as firm and matter-of-fact as if she was simply arranging another professional meeting. Rouge did not argue beyond a short huff, a glare at the back of Shadow’s head as if they alone were responsible for tearing her out of her lover’s arms.

Sonia buttoned up her shirt, donned her jacket, straightened her hair. Only then did she stride out of the room, beckoning for Shadow to follow. “What’s going on?” she said.

“The Resistance is carrying out another attack. Sonic has been spotted, along with another fighter whose name I don’t know.” Shadow shot the looming Leon a thoughtful glance before continuing at a murmur. “Our friend the thief is also here.”

Sudden, brutal clarity made Sonia’s heart plunge into her stomach. She had long taken Manic’s cowardice for granted. He wouldn’t be here unless he knew how high the stakes were—and was confident in his ability to come out on top. Sonia had a sickening feeling she knew just what advantage he was relying on.

She turned and gripped Shadow’s wrist. Her gaze had gone volcanic, and her voice hummed with barely-repress rage. “How did you find him?” she said. Shadow fumbled for words, but Sonia already knew the answer. “Can you sense him like you can sense me?”

_Gravity pulls all things toward the center of the Earth, where the force is so vast that solid stone loses its shape, becoming molten and fluid at the Earth’s core. How can he breathe, with the weight of the world bearing down all around him? Is he entombed, or is he too being refined, reshaped, pure molten energy taking on new life and form? When the tectonic plates part for his emergence, no shining tower or ancient foundation will not quake._

“Yes,” Shadow said, their voice touched with reverence.

Sonia’s grasp tightened, and each word betrayed her growing fury. “Lead me to him.”

* * *

Sonic had lost signal somewhere on the way to the first target. The silence hit different, now that he knew he was not alone. He found himself hurrying, more so than usual, giving up on opportunities to drag SwatBots into a prolonged game of cat and mouse. Every second he wasted was a second in which Sally might need his help. Which, of course, had been her plan all along. Sonic couldn’t even be mad at her for knowing just how to push his buttons; in fact, he already missed her voice in his ear.

The first target was a tunnel that ended in a cave-in. A truly ridiculous number of SwatBots guarded a massive drill as it plowed through tons of metal and rock. Unfortunately for them, Sonic had given up on stealth. Even then, they didn’t know that they were in danger until two of them were already downed. Sonic dispatched another before they could begin to take aim. The tunnel became an obstacle course of laser fire, one that Sonic danced through with ease. By timing his steps right, the SwatBots did his job for him, blasting each other to pieces. All the while, the drill roared with enough force to make the ground tremble. Small stones tumbled out of place, letting Sonic know that the opportunity he needed was just around the corner. When the rockpile collapsed, Sonic was already leaping through, letting his momentum carry him into the newly opened passage.

The shattered tunnel gave way to a steep drop. Sonic leaped off falling slabs of concrete, slowing his own fall just enough to stick the landing. Or he would have, if he wasn’t startled by sudden static in his earpiece. Sonic’s one consolation was that Sally wasn’t there to see him faceplant, and Nicole knew better than to tell.

“Sonic, can you hear me?” Sally’s words were quick and sharp as she regulated her breathing, keeping the constant movement from wearing her out too quickly. Sonic could hear metallic voices in the background, but to his relief none of them sounded very close.

“Loud and clear, Sal,” he said. “Lost signal for a second there. Looks like I’m back though. How’re we doing?”

“We have a problem. Can you get in contact with Nicole?”

Sonic’s gaze snapped to his wristband… or rather, his bare wrist where it had once sat. “What the hell?” he said.

“What’s wrong?”

“I lost my watch!”

“You what?” Sally’s voice tinged with indignation and alarm, and Sonic nearly tripped over himself in his attempt to backpedal.

“No, I mean— I’m not that stupid, princess! But it’s not on my wrist. There’s no way I just fucking dropped it!”

It wasn’t unusual for small valuables to go missing in Robotropolis, where the pickpockets were expert and insatiable. Sonic made sure to keep a close eye on things when he was in the city, but unless the SwatBots had developed a case of sticky fingers, there wasn’t anyone down here who would… Wait.

“Sonic?”

“Son of a _bitch_.”

* * *

Kind of wild that Sonic didn’t have his tech password protected, or locked with so much as a fingerprint scanner. Didn’t he know that Robotropolis was full of scavengers who would rob him blind without a moment of hesitation? And what if he was captured, and the Empire got their hands on the choice intel he carried? Then again, Manic supposed that if Sonic was ever captured, then the lost intel would be the least of the Resistance’s problems. He also supposed that he should stop overthinking things and take advantage of Sonic’s apparent carelessness. A bit of fiddling brought up the map, a holographic screen projected in sky blue. Three regions were marked, as well as a rendezvous. As Manic scanned the twists and turns, he broke into a wide smile. Jackpot.

Sonia’s map was incomplete, cobbled together by imperial scientists whose gear stopped working properly as they wandered farther from the Citadel. Sonic, it seemed, had done the tedious but far more accurate work of old-fashioned cartography, boots on the ground, writing shit down as he was tripping over it. Noted, the task was probably far less tedious at a few hundred miles per hour, but the result was the same. But oh, it seemed that the Resistance didn’t have access to the Empire’s energy readings, and could only guess at the location of the mysterious macguffin that had gotten everyone into such an uproar. If Manic overlaid Sonic’s map with Sonia’s…

As Manic installed Sonic’s map onto his handheld, getting ready to compare the two, a line of text popped up on the screen. The electric green font nearly startled Manic out of his skin. “WHO ARE YOU?” it read.

Well, tits. Maybe the Resistance did have a bit more security than Manic initially gave them credit for. “Who’s asking?” he said. He couldn’t find a way to input text. He kept his voice low; the hole he was hiding in seemed safe enough, but he’d rather not stress test it. He could still hear the distant sounds of laser fire and metallic voices.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH SONIC?” the text read.

“Woah, hey, Sonic’s fine. I couldn’t hurt him if I tried, and I don’t want to, he seems cool. I stole his watch, and as far as I know he hasn’t even noticed yet.”

“YOU ARE JEOPARDIZING THE MISSION. RETURN ME TO SONIC AT ONCE.”

Huh. So Manic wasn’t talking to a human Freedom Fighter, but an AI of some sort. The computer in Sonic’s wristband, while sleek as hell for a rebel operation, didn’t have the horsepower to house any reasonably advanced AI. This one must originate from a Resistance hideout. How closely did it watch Sonic and the others? What kind of information did it have access to? More importantly, was it placing a digital beacon over his head so that Sonic could show up and beat him like a drum? “Yeah, that’s not happening. Even if I wanted to, I’ve got no idea where he ran off to. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this place is a labyrinth.”

A minute passed without a word. Manic worked on his own copy of the map, aligning Sonia’s dataset with the passages that Sonic had charted. He glanced up in time to see another line of green text. “YOU ARE NOT ALIGNED WITH THE EMPIRE.”

“Nah. Not a fan. They don’t like me much either. I’m not gonna hand you over, if it makes you feel better.” He could probably wipe the computer before selling it, assuming he made it out of here alive. That assumption was growing less and less safe by the minute, now that Manic had pissed off both sides of the war.

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

“Good question,” Manic said. His own version of the map was nearly finished, glowing targets in pink over a maze of blue lines, all pointing like constellations to one center. “I’m about to figure that out myself.”

* * *

It was a slight change of plan. Sonic retraced the path to the rendezvous, taking a quick detour when the sound of combat reached his ears. He found Sally cornered between two SwatBots, holding them off but unable to disengage without leading them right to the rendezvous. Sonic whistled to signal his approach before launching into a sprint. Without breaking her stride, Sally kicked off the wall and carved a bot neatly in two. Sonic thrust out his shield, driving into the second bot with the force of a cannonball. Before Sally’s feet touched the ground, Sonic was there to catch her, and in a flash they vanished from sight.

“Nicole’s been sending updates on your pickpocket’s location,” Sally said. “Looks like he’s heading for the third target. Do you think he knows something we don’t, or is he just following the map?”

“Beats me,” Sonic said. “We’d be heading the same direction either way.”

“Fair point. Let’s just get there before he does.”

“That’s also what I’d be doin’ either way.” Sonic readjusted his grip, clutching Sally tight to his chest, then accelerated until further banter was rendered quite impossible. A moment later he was skidding to a halt, narrowly avoiding a perilous drop into a pit so large the other side disappeared into blackness. The same could not be said for the SwatBots, whose lights looked like swarms of fireflies lining the path that wound down into the abyss. A thousand searchlights swiveled until they were fixed on Sonic and Sally, uninvited but not unexpected.

Sally planted a quick smooch on Sonic’s cheek just before swinging out of his arms, the cable of her grappling hook carrying her in a graceful arc off into the pitch black. Sonic dashed in the opposite direction, avoiding a barrage of laser fire. Through his headset, Sally delivered the plan. “He’s nearby, but Nicole’s having trouble getting a more precise location. Security’s heaviest toward the lower levels of the pit, and I have a feeling that’s where we’ll run into your pickpocket.”

Sonic sidestepped another blast, stepping from solid stone to empty air. He threw his shield in front of him, where the path dropped to a steep incline. Planting his feet on either side of the shield, he skated down the drop, not once breaking his momentum. “You keep saying that, but he’s not MY pickpocket. He’s A pickpocket. If a raccoon goes through my trash, he doesn’t become my raccoon.”

Sally was nearly invisible in the dark, but over his head Sonic caught a glimpse of metal turning white-hot as her blades sliced through it. “Stay on task, please.”

“I’m just saying, he stole from me, and I don’t care how much adorable stray energy he radiates. I’m going to kick his ass.” Sonic flipped his shield back into his hand, deflecting laser fire into a harmless shower of sparks. The path curved in an uneven spiral around the edges of the pit, drawing Sonic ever downward. He sprinted ahead without hesitation or fear for what he might find at the bottom. All that mattered, all that existed, where the SwatBots that were rapidly ceasing to exist as Sonic blazed through them.

Sonic didn’t see Sally swinging through the air until she was nearly on top of him. She landed in a crouch a few feet ahead on the path. With a flick of her wrist, the grappling hook retracted back into her bracer. Sonic heard her voice doubled through his earpiece. “Less talking, more taking out the trash.”

That, Sonic could do. He shot her a salute that was made no less respectful by his carefree posture. “You’re the boss,” he said, and he was rewarded with a lopsided smile before Sally swung off into the dark once more.

Sonic carved a path deeper until even the meager light above could not reach him, and the crumpled, sparking corpses of SwatBots were only faint fireworks. The glow of Sonic’s tech was barely enough to see by, and although he knew that the pit was hundreds of feet across, the darkness of the deep felt suffocating. He pushed away the growing claustrophobic dread and charged toward the towering bot guarding the bottom of the pit. When Sonic was not temporarily blinded by flashes of electricity, he could see a tunnel carved out of the rough stone, leading even further downward. The way was blocked by a goliath bot, at least twice Sonic’s height and wrapped in heavy armor plating. It didn’t move as Sonic approached, merely stood ramrod straight, its head swiveling to follow his path. A steadily growing glow behind its single faceted eye was Sonic’s only warning before it fired.

A beam of red-hot energy erupted from the bot’s eye, melting stone into slag and sending showers of molten debris from the point of impact. Sonic rolled to the side, hopping back up on his feet and zig-zagging to dodge the continuous fire. The cyclops’ body didn’t move, but its aim was quicker than Sonic had bargained for. He could barely stay ahead of it, and he didn’t fancy waiting around until he started to stumble. Then again, if he kept its attention on him…

“I’m right behind you,” Sally said, reliable as clockwork. Sonic didn’t respond, and he didn’t need to. He kept his distance, making himself a smaller target, giving every impression that it was only the cyclops’ constant attention that kept him at bay. Better not take that eye off him; he was dangerous, remember? All he needed was an opening, and he’d slash this bot to pieces like uncounted numbers of its comrades.

If only Sonic’s attention was as steady. He hadn’t meant to let his focus slip, but when the molten glow of laser fire illuminated a figure in the dark that wasn’t Sally, Sonic faltered just for a moment. He recovered quickly, extending his shield just in time to meet the beam of light and force that locked onto him. The impact against his shield rattled his teeth and singed his skin. His shield crackled with the effort it took to hold itself together. For a gut-wrenching moment, it looked like the energy field would give out entirely. Sonic braced his palm against the barrier, standing his ground even as heat raised blisters on arm and hand.

The beam halted abruptly. Sonic’s shield retracted, and he knew without looking that it would need repairs. His hand might also need repairs. He stumbled back with a hiss of pain, while his eyes took a moment to readjust to the darkness. When they did, he saw that the cyclops was no longer looking at him. Its eye shone a spotlight instead of a deadly beam of force, and it scanned the bottom of the pit for the interloper who had almost certainly saved Sonic’s hide. A small stone was lobbed from the darkness around the tunnel entrance, striking the side of the cyclops’ head. Its gaze snapped in that direction, and the spotlight lit up the tunnel and the lone figure standing at the entrance. Manic locked eyes with Sonic, shot him a finger gun and a tacky wink, then bolted. The laser fire that followed him sent molten stone tumbling into the path until the tunnel was completely blocked.

Sonic’s shout of “Fuck!” echoed throughout the pit and brought the cyclops’ gaze right back on him. Alright, fair enough. Unfortunately for it, Sonic was tired of playing around.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The siren song of chaos draws them in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New tag: Claustrophobia. Further detail (including spoilers) in the notes at the end.

The tunnel was dead quiet, so much so that Manic dared to shine a light. The walls were rough hewn stone, with no trace of ancient construction. Whatever ruined city had become the Catacombs was left behind. Now it was only Manic, his stolen map, and the weight of the earth pressing in on all sides. He walked forward, one foot in front of the other, and he didn’t know what he would find at the end of the path, only that he wanted it.

He no longer had the map projected. Ever since he’d determined that neither Sonia nor Sonic had charted this particular passage, his handheld was tucked into his vest, while Sonic’s watch remained strapped around his wrist. The mysterious computer hadn’t said much aside from demands to be returned, but now a line of green text appeared unprompted. “YOU TRICKED ME,” it said.

“Hey now,” Manic said. “You’re gonna hurt my feelings that way.”

“YOU KNEW I WAS BRINGING THE RESISTANCE TO YOUR LOCATION. YOU USED THEM TO GET PAST THE GUARDS.”

“Well yeah. I wasn’t gettin’ through any other way. Hey, can you thank Sonic for me? He really saved me a lot of trouble.”

The text that popped up next was not words but rather an extremely stern “>:(” Manic laughed, then quickly quieted himself. “Aw, don’t look at me like that. I figured you were gonna send them after me anyway. The only thing I twisted was the timing.”

What followed was silence, both metaphorical and very, very literal. Even Manic’s footsteps seemed strangely muffled as the passage narrowed. He placed a hand on the cave wall and couldn’t decide whether the solid stone was comforting or suffocating. It never occurred to him to turn around. He didn’t want to. Nothing mattered except moving forward, as if he held one end of a rope, while the other was grasped by something deep and yearning, and it was slowly and gently pulling him in. The passage was getting even smaller.

Manic bumped his head against the ceiling as it dipped downward. He cursed, rubbing at his forehead until the pain faded. “Hey, Sonic’s computer,” he said. “You still with me?” There was no response. Perhaps the AI was deliberately giving him the silent treatment, but it was far more likely that he had lost signal. This far underground, nothing could reach him, nothing could hear him, nothing would speak to him. He bent his head and continued as the tunnel became too small for him to stand up straight. Then he got down on his hands and knees. Stone scraped at his bare arms and one knee where his pants were ripped. Before long, the fabric over the other knee had torn as well. Still Manic continued. A distant voice in his head expressed confusion, bordering on alarm, at his lack of terror. Manic was not usually claustrophobic, but being buried this deep should have made anyone go numb with raw panic, unable to move, barely able to breathe. That single sensible voice was very quiet, drowned out by the unfamiliar feeling of security. Manic knew, in a primal sense that lurked beneath his waking thoughts, that if he stood the earth would shift to accommodate him, and anything above him would crumble at his direction. He did not try to stand, because he was not afraid. He kept crawling, dragging himself through a passage so small that there seemed to be no room for air to breathe. He would believe it if someone told him that he was not breathing. It was just him, the stone, and the weight of the world.

Manic extended his hand into open space. He clawed at the tunnel walls, dragging himself out into a larger cavern. His light was swallowed up before it could illuminate even a few feet, and the pressure in this space was so intense that it compared to the solid stone Manic had just left behind. Unable to see, barely able to breathe, he moved like a moon dragged into orbit. He didn’t know if he was imagining the beam of his flashlight bending as if moved by the same gravitational pull. When the light settled on a gemstone jutting out of the floor, all other thoughts fled from Manic’s mind.

It was the size of his fist, each facet polished to perfection. It belonged in a museum, or a king’s crown, and yet here it lay in a crack in the stone. It was pale gray, void of color, and that struck Manic as strange. He didn’t know why he expected it to shine like a fallen star. It must be astoundingly valuable, and yet the thought of selling it seemed obscene. A treasure like this needed to be protected, lest it fall into the wrong hands. Never mind how Manic was almost certainly not the pair of hands it was supposed to fall into. He badly wanted to keep it. 

Manic bent to pick it up, and gravity in the cavern seemed to magnify. The stone walls bent as if the center of earth had shifted. As Manic touched the gem’s surface, the ground shuddered, foundations threatening to crack under the pressure. For a fraction of a second, Manic pictured with horrific clarity the possibility of being buried, his body crushed beyond life or memory, nowhere to flee as earth pressed in on all sides. But nothing happened, and as he held the gem to the light, the cavern seemed as still and quiet as it had always been.

As the ground quaked, it had masked the sound of a distant blast. Manic did not see Shadow discard their inhibitors, unleashing their power to devastating effect. The rubble blocking the tunnel vanished into gravel and ash. Sonia stepped delicately over the carved up body of the bot that had once guarded the entrance. A razor-sharp stalactite had been driven through its one eye and re-emerged from the back of its skull.

This tunnel had not been on any of the Empire’s maps, and any drones that attempted to explore it had been lost. Sonia could see why. Winding stone passages branched off in all directions, a labyrinth like blood vessels deep below the surface of the earth. As they walked, any signal connecting them to the outside world faded, then disappeared entirely. Leon stepped in front of Sonia, stopping her mid-stride. “I do not believe you should go any further,” the bot said, struggling to speak. It was not in her programming to question orders, but the apparent danger of being lost forever in a maze of stone seemed to override that. “Allow me.”

Sonia peered past Leon, where Shadow’s eyes glowed like will o’ wisps in the pitch black. “Shadow?” she said.

“I know where he is,” Shadow said. “He followed a clear path. I can lead you right to him.”

Sonia nodded, fixing Leon with a pointed stare. The bot retreated under the silent command, and Sonia strode further into the dark.

* * *

As the cyclops lay downed, Sonic wrapped bandages around his scorched hand. The injury was not serious, but it would smart something awful until it had a chance to heal. It wasn’t likely to get a chance until they made it back to Knothole. Sonic wasn’t thinking about the pain, but rather flexing his fingers, clenching his hand into a fist to check for weakness or restricted mobility. Pain was temporary, but injury that slowed him down could be deadly. As he worked, Sally examined the rockslide in front of the tunnel entrance, looking for any opening through which they could slip past. Finding none, she walked in circles until she had just enough signal to get an update from Nicole.

“He’s in there alright, but Nicole lost his signal a while ago. Looks like another descent. We’re not likely to get a read on him anytime soon.”

“Is there another way in?” Sonic said.

“No idea. This way isn’t on your map, or even any of the outdated versions. If he re-emerges somewhere, Nicole can let us know, but…”

A flashlight emerged high over their heads on the edge of the pit. No, now a flashlight. Sonic recognized the flicker of emerald fire, casting Shadow in hazy silhouette. They weren’t alone. Sally fell silent as she followed his gaze. When she next spoke, her voice was a low murmur. “Let’s get out of here.”

Normally, Sonic would argue. Instead, he wrapped his arm around Sally’s shoulders. She gripped his waist with one hand and fired her grappling hook with the other. Sonic thought he saw Shadow’s gaze snap in their direction as they sailed out of the pit, but he couldn’t be sure. The Ultimate Lifeform, the politician, and the the robot continued their descent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Manic crawls through a very narrow tunnel. He is not afraid, nor does he ever get stuck, but the narration does discuss suffocation and/or being buried alive. Take care, readers, and if you think it needs another tag, please let me know.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long-awaited standoff results in chaos

The only light was the flickering flame around Shadow’s hand. Three shadows curved across the stone walls, bending around a myriad of branching pathways. Every once in a while, Shadow would pause at a crossroads, close their eyes as if listening for faint music, then turn and plunge into the darkness of their chosen path. The tunnels narrowed until Leon had to creep through on all fours and the air was sparse and stale. Shadow stopped abruptly and did not continue. Sonia didn’t immediately speak up, fearful of breaking their concentration, but impatience simmered until the pressure was too great to withstand. “What’s wrong?” she said.

“There’s something else here,” Shadow said. “Tangled up with Manic. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“The chaos emerald?”

“I’m not sure. I thought the emerald’s aura would be more… intense. This is quiet, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“We’ll find out one way or another.”

Shadow nodded. “Right,” they said. After hesitating for only a moment more, they started moving once again.

Sonia could feel it too, by the time the tunnel opened up into a much wider cavern. But any distant sense of awe or dread was abruptly drowned out by the sight of Manic, faintly illuminated by the pale glow of the gem he clutched in his hand. He stood at the far side of the cavern, one hand braced against the wall. His expression was strange, unreadable, but that changed as soon as he laid eyes on Sonia. She was gratified by the dread and—dare she say—guilt that crept over his face, before it was replaced by a strained smile.

“Hey… lady,” Manic said, stumbling over a more familiar greeting. His eyes flitted between Sonia, Shadow, Leon, and it was impossible to say which was the greatest threat. Leon, whose eyes could be a window for the Good Doctor himself, whose presence kept him and Sonia from being too explicit about their friendly history. Shadow, whose abilities were unlike any other mortal human’s. Just yesterday, Manic wouldn’t have ranked Sonia among them, for the simple fact that he trusted Sonia not to hurt him any more than with an eye roll and casual condescension. He’d known for quite some time that Sonia was far stronger than him and could, if she so chose, beat him like a drum. Now, with—arguably righteous—fury written across her face, Manic worried for the first time that she might actually do it. “I think you dropped something.”

“I hope, for your sake, that this is the point at which you explain that you, a law-abiding citizen of the Empire, are going to hand over the emerald that you so helpfully tracked down,” Sonia said, her words laced with bitter sarcasm and threats of horrific violence. Despite everything, they might even hold a kernel of truth. She was giving Manic one last out, a chance to weasel back into her good graces.

It would be the sensible decision, to be sure. There was only one way out of this cavern, and the path Manic remembered did not lend itself well to a speedy escape. That was assuming, far too generously, that he could outrun Shadow and evade Leon, who loomed in the tunnel’s opening. A treacherous voice in Manic’s head whispered that he could make another exit. He stamped that voice down with the swiftness that came from long and laborious practice. Miles of stone hung above them, and Manic could feel every pound as keenly as if they were a weight on his shoulders. A single nudge, a single brick removed from the metaphorical jenga tower, was all it would take. There was no guarantee that Manic would keep enough control to save himself. There was no way he could save Sonia.

And yet the thought lingered, despite his best attempts to silence it. It had been difficult, ever since he laid hands on the emerald, to quiet the dangerous thoughts that he had agonized for years to ignore.

The fact remained that Manic was trapped. Outnumbered, cornered, nowhere to flee, no place to hide where Sonia would not drag him right back out. There was one way out of this that did not doom him. Manic thought of the power that hummed from the emerald through his skin and into the core of his body. He quaked at what the Empire might do with that same power weaponized. “I’m not handing over shit,” he said. “Nothing personal. But when Robotnik finishes crushing the Resistance, it’s lowlifes like me that are next to go.”

She had to understand. Manic didn’t have a choice, not really. He didn’t want to hurt her any more than a cornered fox wanted to bite. But the rage twisting Sonia’s face did not cool, and Manic couldn’t blame her, not really. He barely believed the things he said, most of the time.

“Shall I take it from him?” Leon said, voice cold and perfectly even. She didn’t have a shred of doubt that prying the emerald out of Manic’s hands would be effortless, barely worth the seconds it took to subdue him. She was right.

“Careful,” Shadow said, and if not for the gravity with which they always spoke, Manic might have laughed. What threat did he pose to something like Leon? Scrawny, unarmed, and trapped; even Sonia, who was not a massive armored robot or bioengineered supersoldier would be able to take him without earning so much as a bruise. Manic pressed his back against the wall. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the cold stone trembling as if in anticipation.

He had an idea, one that would almost certainly end poorly. Manic stepped forward, planting his feet and clutching the emerald like a lifeline. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you,” he said. “Unless you want to dig your way out of here. It’s an awful long way to the surface.” He was bluffing, of course he was, but the emerald didn’t seem to know that. Neither did the miles of rock above them. The cavern shuddered, sending dust and gravel raining down. For a sickening moment, Manic wondered if even that was too much.

Some of Manic’s earliest memories were of things breaking. When he was barely more than a toddler, chubby-cheeked and prone to chattering endlessly about things that only made sense to a child, Ferrell had gotten him a pair of headphones. They were ancient, but well-made, at least until Manic wore them non-stop for months before taking a tumble off of something he definitely should not have been climbing. The bruises and scraped knees didn’t hurt nearly as much as the sound of static in one ear, while the other didn’t make any noise at all. With money and delicate electronics difficult to come by, they were never properly fixed, despite Ferrell’s best efforts. It was before Manic knew how to blink back tears before they spilled or grit his teeth to swallow sobs. He was so small, and his emotions were so huge, and his wails were the only way he could relieve the pressure of too much feeling poured into a too tiny body. And as he screamed, the plaster in the walls began to crack. The one window overlooking the street shattered. What should have been solid ground shook and rumbled, and the noise that Manic could no longer block out only scared him more. By the time Ferrell managed to soothe him, furniture was tipped over, and the floor was a maze of dust and glass. Looking back, Manic wondered how scared Ferrell had been, faced with a specter of destruction in the form of a screaming child. He hadn’t seemed scared at the time. In fact, he was the only thing in the world that did not shake. He rubbed Manic’s back until his breath slowed, made him hot chocolate in the only mug that hadn’t been cracked.

After that, they worked on breathing slowly; in four, hold eight, out eight. Manic learned to deflect and evade at the first sign that his temper was rising. What he told himself was “don’t lose your cool.” What he grew to believe was that danger came from without and within. His only chance at survival was to keep a level head. Sometimes, deep in his core, he felt like a little kid again, overwhelmed by more feeling than he would ever be able to contain. Even as he grew, the world never became smaller. Even as much as Manic had struggled, he knew that the magnitude of cruelty that existed was more vast than he would ever be able to comprehend. So he didn’t try. He kept going, kept his head down, kept himself alive. Anything more was too much. Reckoning with the weight of the world was too much. Hoping for a better life was beyond his reach. So he didn’t. And when his soul shrieked for something more, he stifled that voice under tons of stone before it could shake his foundation. Manic didn’t lose his cool. How could he, when he didn’t care? Not about himself, not about anyone else. He’d always been an excellent liar, able even to fool himself.

Foundations were hard to come by in Robotropolis, but Ferrell had done his best. Even when they didn’t know where they’d sleep that night, Manic could count on his old man to help him feel at home. The night that Ferrell didn’t return, the earth shook like the waves of a treacherous ocean, and there was no one to pull Manic back to solid ground.

Deep below the surface of the earth, Sonia and Manic teetered on a knife’s edge; Sonia wondering if Manic had the courage to go through with his threat, Manic unsure if he had the strength not to. Shadow shrank back, something akin to fear written across their face. Leon coiled like a spring, weighing two conflicting priorities. Protect Sonia, or claim the chaos emerald for the Empire? Before she could decide, Sonia made a decision of her own.

She called Manic’s bluff, and didn’t give him a chance to make another, by slamming into him with a full-body tackle. Manic dropped like a rock, momentarily stunned as Sonia dragged him to the ground. Just before she could snatch the emerald from his hands, he twisted like a snake. He couldn’t escape Sonia’s grip, but that didn’t stop him from trying, cursing and kicking up dust and clutching the emerald to his chest like it was the god damned One Ring. But Sonia was far stronger than him, and unlike the feral cat he resembled, Manic didn’t have any claws. He could do nothing to stop Sonia from pinning his wrists and reaching out to take the emerald from him.

Well, there was one thing he could do. Even now he felt gravity bending toward the emerald’s center, knew how easy it would be to fill every passage beneath Robotropolis with rubble. Every part of him recoiled at the very thought, and Manic found himself fighting not only against Sonia, but against the destructive pressure that welled up from his core, demanding to be unleashed. His focus split, he barely noticed that he had been pinned, that Sonia had extended her hand toward the emerald, that her fingers brushed against the polished surface.

Shadow reeled back from the force of the sound that both of them now heard. Trillions of atoms collided, forming and breaking bonds in the same instant. Energy built and grew and was not expended, radiating outward to make the whole universe sing. Trillions of voices rang out in a dissonant chorus; at the forefront, a cacophonous duet.

* * *

Sonic raced through an endless blur of tunnels, taking turns at Sally’s direction, filling in the holes in their map. Even he was starting to believe that it was a fool’s errand. The passage that Manic had gone into was somehow a more nightmarish maze than the rest of the Catacombs. But they didn’t have a choice, except to turn around and forsake the emerald to Robotnik. There had been no discussion of the options, or the risk, before he and Sally delved deeper, and even after what seemed like hours, their grim determination hadn’t faded. When Sonic stumbled, it was not due to exhaustion or fear, but a chorus that overwhelmed the senses and sent him—and Sally, by extension—sprawling to the ground. She was on her feet the next moment, helping him up as he continued to reel. “Are you alright?” she said, her voice touched by fear for the first time. “What’s wrong?”

Couldn’t she hear it? How could she hear anything else? It was beautiful, the dissonance resolving with the missing pieces in Sonic’s core, pieces that he’d never noticed were missing before. Sonic couldn’t say how long it was before the music faded into the background, only that the silence didn’t sound the same after. “Did you hear that?” Sonic said, uncharacteristically breathless.

Even once Sonic was standing, Sally’s hand was steady on his shoulder, as if she worried he would topple over if she let go. “Hear what?”

But how could he describe it? Even now it rang in his ears, the melody forgotten but the longing plain as day. Sonic was spared the attempt when another issue suddenly became far more pressing. The tunnels were no longer black as pitch. Now, in the distance, the stone was illuminated the color of copper. Sally followed his gaze and could not stifle an “oh fuck.”

“Time to go,” Sonic said, and Sally didn’t argue. He swept an arm under her knees and hurried back the way they came, as the tunnels before them filled with white-hot magma.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonia's always had a............ volcanic temper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New tag: Near Death Experiences. We're gonna get a lot of mileage out of that one

The tunnels shifted and warped, not by the collision of tectonic plates, but by the melting of stone into magma. All of the sudden, the space around Sonia and Manic was the only safe haven in the cavern as it gave way to molten rock. This close, the heat should have burned their skin to ash, but they were unharmed, feeling only the energy humming from their bodies into the emerald, one another, and out into the earth’s crust. Manic’s hand that had been futilely trying to shove Sonia away now clung to her, and she clutched him close in turn. Neither of them breathed, much less spoke, unable even to ask what they had just done. The emerald, still clasped in between their hands, was now deep viridian and shone like a fallen star, more alive than it had been in a generation.

Sonia was the first to break the silence, calling out Shadow’s name. They were nowhere to be seen, as the magma swirling around them blocked out all other solid ground. Either one of them could reach out and touch it, encircling them with only an invisible barrier holding it at bay. They were within the eye of the storm, and neither could shake the terror that at any moment their protection would fail and the magma would bury them.

“What is this?” Manic said, his voice shaking. “Sonia, what the hell is going on?”

His eyes were normally the color of rubies. Now they were the same shining green as the gem he clutched in his hand, the same gem that Sonia didn’t dare let go of. His eyes were wide with fright, and Sonia knew her expression was his mirror image. But why should either of them be afraid? The song they’d heard had been led by their voices, even if they didn’t yet understand the words. “This is a chaos emerald,” Sonia said. “It’s supposed to be extraordinarily powerful.” There was no question about that, not anymore. Hearing the stories were one thing; being surrounded by molten rock as if the earth couldn’t decide whether or not to devour them was another.

“Powerful like…?” The foolish question died on Manic’s lips. This wasn’t a machine of the Good Doctor’s creation. He’d long known that magic existed, but that was the sort of knowledge he preferred to never look at directly. Now he could see nothing but magma, a shining gemstone, and Sonia’s face illuminated in fiery red. “Christ, and you were going to bring this back to Robotnik?”

“It’s my job, Manic, I thought you knew that!”

“I knew there was something important down here, but holy shit, Sonia—”

“Wait. Are you telling me you didn’t know?”

“I guess? I was playin’ it all by ear, I didn’t think I’d end up in the heart of a fucking magic volcano!”

“What, so you went through my purse for shits and giggles?” Sonia’s face was turning red, and not just because of the harsh light. Manic suddenly felt like he had been backed into a corner all over again. He lashed out, feral and sharp, and immediately regretted it.

“Sure, something like that, but that’s just how I do. It’s basically your fault for trusting me.”

Manic felt every ounce of the hurt that showed on Sonia’s face, and it festered long after she wrested her expression into something vicious and cold. He opened his mouth, desperately hoping he had the courage to apologize. He wouldn’t bet on it.

A rumble shook the cavern, and for an agonizing moment it looked as if the magma was sweeping in to envelop them. Seeing his death, inevitable as the sunrise, Manic threw his arms around Sonia’s shoulders. Her body was rigid, her hands faintly trembling, but the searing heat never came. Manic opened his eyes, half-expecting to see whatever lay on the other side of the abyss. Instead they knelt at the edge of the pit, as if space had bent around them to deposit them far above their molten doom. Magma oozed out of the tunnel entrance, pooling like a lake of fire. It was already cooling at the edges, heat giving way to lifeless rock. The chaos emerald lay on the ground, just out of arm’s reach. Sonia’s hands were clenched into fists, clinging to Manic’s vest.

After what seemed like an eternity, footsteps signaled that they were not alone. “Are you alright?” Shadow said, their voice soft. Startled back to her senses, Sonia shoved Manic away. He tumbled onto his back, and when he tried to get his shaking legs beneath him, he found that he was staring down the end of Sonia’s stun baton. “Don’t,” she said, and Manic went very still.

Sonia rose to her feet, reaching for the chaos emerald. Before she could grasp it, she jerked back as powerful metal claws reached up over the edge of the pit. Leon’s armor glowed red as burning coals, and the heat rolling off of her made the air shift and writhe. The ferocity in her eyes made Sonia forget, for a moment, that they were on the same side. At least, she had believed so. A dreadful voice in the back of her mind whispered that the Good Doctor did not tolerate disobedience, and Leon could not disobey. Whether due to fear or sensible avoidance of the bot’s superheated touch, Sonia backed away, knuckles white where they clutched her baton. Leon dragged herself onto solid ground, feet planted on either side of the fallen emerald.

“A successful mission,” Leon said. “The Doctor will be pleased.”

Sonia did not like the feeling of being judged, even if the judgment—this time—was favorable. It was just another reminder that she could not turn her back on those she considered allies. She set her face in a bitter scowl, although she was careful not to let any sign of dread show through the cracks. “I certainly hope so, after all this trouble,” she said. “Take the emerald and let’s get out of here. I’m tired of stumbling around in the dark.”

That should have been Manic’s cue to disappear. He tried to stand, but Shadow’s hand on his shoulder stilled him. Shadow wasn’t looking at him. Their gaze was fixed on the emerald, brows furrowed and lips twisted as if there was a riddle they couldn’t quite wrap their mind around. Even still, Manic didn’t like his chances of running while Shadow had a grip on him—although he was starting to think anything would be preferable to letting Sonia exact vengeance.

Energy crackled between Leon’s claws and the emerald’s surface. At the first touch, a jolt raced through her, and her body seized up as if it was suddenly not her own. The bot collapsed, limbs shaking, eyes shining, emerald green radiating through the cracks in her armor. When she finally stilled, the sound that tore from her throat was something like a sob, a pained cry from a being that could no longer cry. Sonia gasped, rushing to her side. Manic took his chances and bolted, and Shadow did not stop him.

Sonia knelt beside Leon as she tried to sit up, tried to prop herself up on limbs that were as unfamiliar to her as a newborn foal’s. Her eyes were the same cool blue, but icy panic took hold where there had once been calm. Sonia nearly touched her, but thought better of it as her hands were warmed by the heat Leon still radiated. “What’s wrong?” Sonia said. “Leon, what’s going on?”

Those eyes settled on Sonia’s face, piercing her and clinging like barbs. Leon reached out with startling speed. Sonia did not realize until much later how strange it was that those claws, still glowing with heat, did not burn her skin as Leon clutched her face.

“Aleena,” Leon pleaded. “My love, my angel, what’s happened to me?”

Words failed Sonia, and the silence that echoed in the aftermath of Leon’s question was torturous. It could have been seconds or years before cold clarity returned to Leon’s gaze. She recoiled as if Sonia had been the one to burn her, claws scraping against stone as she scrambled away. Robots couldn’t breathe. Frozen in horror and panic, Leon showed no sign of life. Then she turned and fled, bounding blindly into the Catacombs. 

Manic was gone, and so was the chaos emerald. Sonia would not find either. But his successful escape did not mean that Manic was safe, as he learned the hard way when an electric blade emerged from the darkness, angled menacingly across his throat. The freedom fighter wasn’t anyone Manic knew, but she was smarter than Sonic, judging by how carefully she kept him out of pickpocketing range. Sonic was not far behind; the emerald gleamed in one hand, while he draped the other across Manic’s shoulders. His grip was just too tight to be friendly. 

Without a word, Manic unfastened the stolen watch from around his wrist and offered it up. As he did, a string of green text appeared before his eyes.

“WELL, THAT WAS MESSIER THAN IT NEEDED TO BE.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sonia Windermere, she/her, 25.  
> Manic Ferrell('s kid), he/she/they, 25.  
> Sonic Charley, he/him, 25.  
> Rouge Bijoux, she/her, 30.  
> Shadow Ultimate Lifeform, they/them, ??? (appears 20-something)  
> Dr Ivo Robotnik, the Good Doctor, he/him, ???


End file.
